


Storge

by PunkRyuki



Series: A Study In Love [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Cute, Fluff, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Innocence, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, smitten!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkRyuki/pseuds/PunkRyuki
Summary: He understood three very important things then: he, in fact, did not want Harry Potter to die; Potter was breathtakingly attractive; and he, Draco Malfoy, just might fancy him.----A study in innocent, young love, and how sometimes it's good to be stupid.





	1. A Most Unfortunate Realization

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for choosing to read this fic! It came about as a need for more fluff in this pairing, and as always, evolved into a giant monster with three parts.  
> This book will focus on Storge: an innocent love derived from friendship, rather than sexual feeling. Make no mistake, Draco and Harry are not asexual (although I did play around with that idea), but more along the lines of demisexual. That line of thought will be explored quite thoroughly in the second book Eros.  
> I chose to start this story in the fourth book, instead of later when they were a bit older, because I feel like that the end of this book is when Shit Gets Real(TM). Before it felt more wonderous and fun, but 5th book on is when stuff gets serious, so I felt this would be a good point for an innocent love to blossom.  
> A fair bit of warning, this work has not been brit-picked, though I have tried my best to use as many British terms as I knew.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> \-----
> 
> "Ah, to be young and to feel love's keen sting."  
> -Albus Dumbledore

  
"Going somewhere, Potter?" Draco Malfoy would never get tired of the way that name fit in his mouth. How easy it was to sneer it like the greatest insult in the world, and even better, the way it always managed to turn those fiery green eyes on him.

Standing, flanked by his two biggest fans, just as Draco was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Harry Potter turned around in the middle of the 2nd floor corridor. "What's it to you, Malfoy?" He sneered his name just as nicely as Draco did his. The sound of his surname said with such loathing from those too red lips never failed to send a shiver up his spine. He lived for these moments.

"Thought you might be trying to put your name into the Goblet. You're always trying to grasp for attention." Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle obediently howled with laughter. They may be thick as a wooden stump, but they were great yes men.

"I'm not the one trying to get everyone's attention right now." That was surprisingly perceptive of him, and it caused Draco to take a step back. "Besides, I'm not 17. How would I even try?"

"I heard those Weasley twins had some scheme concocted; figured they'd take pity on you and let you in." As far as saves went, it was pretty weak, but anything that kept those eyes on him was worth it. "Aren't Gryffindors always up for trying to kill themselves like a bunch of fools?" Glory be damned, Draco wasn't stupid enough to enter some foolhardy tournament, even if he were seventeen. Nothing was worth risking your life over.

  
"Really? You're the one that seems to be egging for it."

"Is that a threat, Scar Head?"

Before Potter could reach for his wand, however, his Muggleborn friend stepped in between them, a hand on his wand arm. "Stop, Harry. It's not worth the detention."

Reluctantly, Potter withdrew his hand, shoulders relaxing just a tad. He scoffed at him, before turning away, taking those eyes with him. How dare he walk away from him! This was all Granger's fault. "Listen to your little Mudblood friend, Potter, and know when you're outma--" To his surprise, the spell that sent him hurtling backward onto his rear end was not from Potter's wand, but from Granger's. Although, even from where he lay sore on the ground, he could see those bright green eyes glaring at him, and he couldn't help but smile in victory.

 

* * *

 

"...Harry Potter?"

The entire Great Hall fell into dead silence, all heads swivelled to where the Gryffindor awkwardly sat down to try and hide behind his standing friends.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore sounded furious, and even Draco couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut, as if he were the one in trouble.

Sheepishly, the Boy-Who-Lived shuffled his way to the front, followed by a couple of stray "Boos" and "Cheaters". Strangely, he was not one of those people. He should have delighted in the fact that Potter was going to be taking place in a deadly tournament, which, if the look on his face was anything to go by, was completely involuntary. Just what trouble had this boy gotten himself into now?

 

* * *

 

Lounging around the Slytherin common room, surrounded by his followers, Draco Malfoy mused on his next course of action. Blaise Zabini sat regally in an emerald arm chair, flicking through his Ancient Runes textbook. The firelight from his right danced across his dark skin. Behind him, Pansy Parkinson, rested her arms on top of the back of his chair, reading over his shoulder idly. On the couch opposite of the one he lay on, Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their faces with pilfered pudding from the kitchens. Over their shoulders, he could see the Greengrass sisters studying at a wooden table by one of the windows that revealed only the murky depths of the Black Lake. Theodore Nott claimed to have seen the giant squid swim by once. Mostly they just saw the occasional grindylow.

"Seems the Gryffindor house isn't as loyal as they want everyone to believe," Pansy mused aloud. "Even the Weasel has turned against Potter. It's quite pathetic, actually."

"Yes, it does seem like the only person that talks to him anymore is that Granger girl," Draco smirked. "It's like second year all over again."

"Ooh, do you think he'll cry?" Pansy snickered cruelly.

He could just imagine those green, green eyes swimming with tears, and his stomach seemed to have transfigured itself into a bird. He let out a giddy sigh. "Oh, this brings out the artist in me..." How best to utilize this to mess with Potter?

An unconcealed sigh of grief drew his attention from the dungeon ceiling to Zabini's insubordinate eye roll. "Something you'd like to say, Zabini?" Draco sat up. His father had always taught him that he was to be at the top of the food chain in the Slytherin House, and to squash out any sign of sedition.

Unforunately, Zabini didn't look cowed. "We're not on about Potter again, are we? He's all you ever talk about."

"What's wrong? Gone soft, have you?"

Another eye roll. Damn, this wasn't good. Was Zabini trying to undermine him and take his position? "Some of us have more important things to worry about than picking on Potter. We've got our O.W.L.s next year, you know."

Draco frowned. Zabini used to always love poking fun at Potter. When did he become so studious? Behind him, Pansy began to frown too, saying, "That's true. My parents have been getting on to me about my grades lately."

Zabini closed his book and stood up. Even though his face held no malice, his words cut into Draco. "Messing with Potter was fun and all when we were First Years, but we're already Fourth Years. It's time to grow up." And then he ran away. Well, no, he actually walked calmly away, but Draco couldn't see it as anything other than a retreat after such a blatant attack on him.

Pansy smiled understandingly at him, before she too left, leaving him with only Crabbe and Goyle for intelligent conversation, which was a juxtaposition if anything. Trying to feel as if he hadn't just suffered a defeat, he stood up suddenly. "Disgraces to the House of Slytherin," he hissed, before striding very purposefully out of the dungeons. Nothing like a retreat, of course.

 

* * *

 

The idea was quite inspired of him, really. It required so little effort on his part, too. He needed only pass out a couple of the badges amongst the different houses, and before he knew it, nearly the whole school was wearing them, especially the Hufflepuffs. They could be surprisingly nasty when they felt one of their own was threatened. He almost pitied Potter, with how easily the school always turned against him. How easy fame turned into infamy.

Sitting in a tree in the courtyard, he observed his devious plan in action. Everywhere, you could see the little badges pinned onto the black Hogwarts robes, flashing a yellow "Support Cedric" before morphing into slimy green letters that read "Potter Stinks." When the mild murmur of the chatting of the students fell into hushed whispers, he knew his prey had drawn near. There, through the leaves, he saw Harry Potter bump shoulders with Hannah Abbot on his way into the courtyard, a trail of snickers following close behind. With his determined gait, he expected Potter had surmised the origins of those badges and was coming to confront him about it, but instead he veered over to where Cedric Diggory was laughing with his posse. He pulled Diggory away and the two were talking about something together in hushed whispers, their faces awfully close together. Something about it rankled him.

So when Potter finally turned away from Diggory, he shouted out to him, "Why so tense, Potter?" The boy turned to find him instantly through the trees, and a paradoxical rush of relief and adrenaline kicked through him. He dropped down from the branch gracefully, robes fluttering behind him in what he hoped was a menacing way. "Do you like my badges? Made them especially for you." And there was the real ingenuity of his plan. Now, whenever Potter would see one of those badges, he would think of him. He'd lay up at night, consumed with rage.

Potter glared at him, but otherwise didn't retort. Well now, that just wouldn't do. He swaggered over to the boy, silver eyes looking him up and down. He'd grown much taller than him over the summer. He loved the way he could look down on him now, the way Potter had to look up at him. "My father and I have a bet going, you see. I think you won't last ten minutes. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five."

Ah, there it was. Potter pushed himself right up against him, and in that half of a second, he had the strangest thought that Potter was going to kiss him, and then his hand was pushing Draco back so that he stumbled backwards.

"I don't care what your father thinks, Malfoy," Potter shouted at him, his eyes glowing with anger and looking right at him, only at him. "He's vile and cruel. And you're pathetic." And then, that electric feeling under his skin was yanked away, as Potter turned around to stomp off.

How dare he turn away from him! How dare...! With a growl, he reached for his wand, ready to throw some hex at Potter, anything just to make him turn around and look at him. But then suddenly the world was growing around him, and his screams had turned into tiny squeaks. Just as he realized that someone had turned him into a ferret, he suddenly found himself flung down Crabbe's trousers.

 

* * *

 

"It was utterly humiliating," he complained to his Head of House. "Uncle Severus, you have to do something about that Professor. Even McGonagall said it was against the rules." His cheeks reddened with shame at the memory. When the Transfigurations teacher had finally reverted him back to his original form, Potter had been laughing at him, looking down at him on the ground. It was the worst.

The Potions professor didn't seem to care one lick, as he didn't even bother to look up from his grading, the harsh slashes with his quill loud in the silence of his office. "Mr. Malfoy, how many times have I told you to address me as Professor Snape when you are at school?"

"Sorry, Professor." He had grown up calling him Uncle Severus, so it was a little hard to break the habit. "So are you going to tell Dumbledore to sack him?"

Professor Snape paused in his grading long enough to look up at him with an annoyed glare. "Mr. Malfoy, I care very little for your pigtail-pulling and even less for your whingeing. Unless you have any questions regarding your classwork, I suggest you leave my office." And then Snape magically shoved him out into the corridor, the door slamming shut behind him in a reproving manner.

He stood there for a minute, feeling just a little bit betrayed. What did he mean by "pigtail pulling"? He hadn't pulled anyone's hair, or any pig's tail for that matter. Well, he wouldn't be getting any justice from Snape, so he'd have to take out his revenge on Potter. It was all his fault, anyway.

 

* * *

 

The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was dragons, and Draco couldn't be any happier. Not only were dragons the greatest of the magical beasts, but he'd probably get to see Potter burned to a crisp too. The Slytherins around him cheered, some waving their flags and others their noise makers. Some of them cheered for Krum, would rather the Bulgarians win than Potter. Others cheered for Diggory, out of whatever shred of school pride they might have had. No one cheered for Potter.

He was but a crimson speck on the rocky terrain. The stands were high up and far away with protective wards to shield them all from dragonfire. Potter had no such wards. He just narrowly dodged a column of fire from the Hungarian Horntail, and for a moment, Draco's heart leapt into his throat. It was one thing to think about him dying in the abstract, but sitting here, watching Potter frantically put out the flames at the hem of his robes, the very real thought that he might witness the death of this boy, that there just might not be a Harry Potter for him to pick on tomorrow sent a sinking feeling of dread down his gut.

But then, Potter had Summoned his Firebolt and sent the dragon on a dangerous chase, and managed to return with only his broom lightly singed. He quickly brought up his Omnioculars, to see that the boy was indeed unharmed. More than unharmed. He looked...powerful, ecstatic. His eyes shone bright with unconcealed mirth, and he hollered in victory, sweeping up the golden egg. He looked like freedom.

He remembered another time he had seen that same look on Potter. Last year, during Care of Magical Creatures, when the hippogriff had landed on the ground, and Potter had sat on its back, looking like he just might sprout his own wings and fly himself. How his lips had looked too red and his hair an endearing mess that just begged to be finger-combed. How Draco had sauntered up to the hippogriff after that, trying to keep that passionate gaze on him.

The realization didn't hit him like a strike of lightning; it crept into his brain slowly, like any other normal thought. He wanted Harry Potter to look at him. All of that time he had been teasing and bullying him, all that posturing, all of that _peacocking_ , had all been for his attention. Like a little boy pulling a girl's pigtails. Hot shame crept up his neck and settled on the tips of his ears.

He understood three very important things then: he, in fact, did not want Harry Potter to die; Potter was breathtakingly attractive; and he, Draco Malfoy, just might fancy him.


	2. Call Me Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For a horrifying moment, he thought he was going to refuse his hand, just like he had done the first time they had met, but then a warm hand clasped his own and he pulled the boy up onto his feet."

Draco sat at the Slytherin table that next morning, the bags under his eyes so large that he could fill them with the tea he was sipping at. He would rather have some coffee, but didn't feel like mustering up the energy to go down to the kitchens to order one of the house elves to brew him up a cup. Across the Great Hall, he could see the Gryffindor table, buzzing with energy and excitement. Looked like conquering a dragon had won over all of Potter's Housemates. Now they treated him like he was already the Triwizard Champion. It grated on his nerves a little, but he felt too tired to be truly irritated. 

"You look awful," Crabbe said in his usual blunt manner. He had all the subtlety of a mountain troll. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

Of course he couldn't. His entire world had been turned upside down. He... Towards Potter, he... Merlin, he couldn't even finish the thought. What was next? Muggles doing magic? Uncle Severus smiling? How long had he been making a fool of himself in front of everyone? He was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way towards Potter when they first met. Sure, he might have been a bit starstruck, but he certainly hadn't thought about how pretty he looked. Or how green his eyes were, even from behind those ugly glasses. Or how those ugly glasses actually made him look a little cute.

Ugh, he almost upended his eggs. Someone had to have slipped some Amortentia into his pumpkin juice yesterday. Except, he realized that he had always felt this way, and despite this realization, still wanted to bully Potter, just a little bit. It may have been shameful, acting like a fool just to get Potter's attention, but nothing could beat that thrill when he did have it. He was pretty sure that Love Potion victims were basically mindless love slaves, and didn't feel the urge to make their paramour cry. He rumpled his hair violently in frustration. Good thing he no longer kept his hair slicked back, or he would have looked a right mess. "I need to clear my head. I'm going to get some fresh air."

When he stood up, Crabbe and Goyle followed him. He turned back to glare at them. "Alone." The two of them made great lackeys, but not the greatest for sensitive conversation. He strode out of the Great Hall, and at the last minute, decided to grab his broom. He just wanted to get as far away from everyone else as he possibly could. 

With his broom and more flight appropriate clothes, he walked out into the brisk morning air. The Quidditch Pitch was empty at this time of morning. There wasn't enough time before class for any of the teams to get a good practice in. The peaceful calm invited him in, but as he got closer to the stands, the quiet of the morning was interrupted by laughter and soft hooting. He followed the noise up into the sky, and saw none other than the boy occupying his thoughts, hovering in the air on his broomstick, with a snowy white owl perched on his head.

With a quick breath, he dashed back behind the stands before berating himself. What the hell was he hiding for? He hadn't done anything wrong. Yet. Still, he carefully peeked around the wooden column to spy on the carefree boy. His cheeks were red from the cold morning air, and his hair in a disarray from the wind and the owl pulling on his strands.

"What are you doing up there, you silly bird?" Potter downright giggled, and Draco's heart made a similar motion. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and suddenly the cold breeze felt quite nice on his warm face. He wished he could be the one to make Potter laugh like that. 

'I'm jealous of an owl,' he realized morosely. How far had he sunk?

With a whoop of joy, Potter shot forward on his broom. While he had been lost in his thoughts, the bird had seen fit to leave her perch and fly higher. He chased after her, keeping up with all of her quick twists and turns. After watching him outfly a dragon, Draco was starting to believe all those fantastical feats Dumbledore claimed that he had done in their previous years. He really was a natural at flying, as if he had been a bird himself in a past life. He wondered what sort of Animagus Potter might have. Maybe something like a hawk or a falcon? Or maybe even a phoenix, given his knack for avoiding death.

Draco may have come out here to be alone, but he suddenly ached to fly with Potter. He had never felt more alive than when he flew against Potter. Admittedly, that was probably why he kept losing to him. His eyes were on him more than the Snitch. Then, in a much more insouciant tone that he actually felt, he muttered to himself, "Why not? Let's see how far down this rabbit hole goes." He mounted his broom, and then kicked off.

The second he left his hiding spot he felt much more exposed. He longed to return to spying from his hiding spot, but he yearned far more to fly with Potter. He may not be as good as the Golden Boy, but he liked to think he was a fairly decent flyer. He chased after him, keeping up with his twists and turns, and even a barrel roll at one point. After a while, he managed to sidle up to his right, and Potter finally realized he had an extra player.

"Malfoy?" his words fell behind them instantly with how fast they were going, but it still managed to reach his ears. Potter looked completely shocked and just a little incredulous. 

For a horrifying moment, Draco feared that he could read all of his feelings on his face. So he covered it up the only way he knew how. "Care for a race, Potter?"  
And true to his character, he didn't back down from the challenge. "You're on." Then he pulled ahead, and Draco strained to push his broom further. 

They hadn't set any rules, or even a finish line, but neither of them let up. They were neck-and-neck, Potter leading the way most of the time, but every so often, he would take a turn too wide, and Draco would pull ahead. They were going so fast that they had long surpassed the owl, and Draco could feel the Flying Charms on his broom straining, and even still he pushed it further. Laughter bubbled in his throat, but it was lost in the roaring of the wind rushing past them. Draco had learned to ride a broomstick when he was merely eight years old, but he had never flown until now.

Then he decided the best way to trip up his opponent was with his favorite move, the Wronski Feint. He pushed the nose of his broom down into a hard dive, and a quick look over his shoulder told him that Potter didn't fail to follow. The ground came closer and closer, and still, he did not pull up. Only when he could start to see individual blades of grass did he use all of his strength to quickly pull out of the dive. He only just managed it, the tips of his shoes skimming the grass. Unfortunately, Potter pulled out of the dive in time too, but he misjudged how close they were. The front of his broom nicked the bristles of Draco's broom, and it caused them both to tumble into the ground. Luckily, pulling out of the dive had slowed them down from their breakneck speed, but they still crashed and rolled in a painful blur. 

When the world stopped moving, Draco found himself lying in a sore lump on top of his broom. He thanked the stars that the thing wasn't broken, but he could feel its discontent at him, the way most enchanted items did when they were pushed too far. With a grimace, he clambered to his feet, already feeling the bruising on his arms and legs. If only he had been wearing his protective Quidditch wear... Probably wouldn't hurt to stop by Madam Pomfrey's for a Pick-Me-Up potion. He turned around to find Potter still curled up on the ground. His heart stopped. Oh Merlin, did he kill Harry Potter?

He rushed over to his side. "Potter, are you alright? Can you stand?" The boy uncurled, and from the grimace on his face, he obviously had been banged up just as much as Draco, but he didn't seem to be any worse off. He offered his hand to help him up, and Potter just stared at it like he had offered him a mandrake root. For a horrifying moment, he thought he was going to refuse his hand, just like he had done the first time they had met, but then a warm hand clasped his own and he pulled the boy up onto his feet. Those eyes were locked onto him, studying him curiously, and Draco was so transfixed by that gaze, he didn't remember to let go of Potter's hand.

With a hoot, the owl flew down around their heads in worry. The noise reminded Draco to let go of Potter and to take a step back. Oh no. Did he find out? What was he smirking at him for? If Potter teased him over this ridiculous crush of his, he could never show his face around Hogwarts again.

"So since you hit the ground first, does this mean I win?" Potter said, all boyish grins and teasing, glittering eyes. Merlin, did he learn that from Dumbledore?

"You wish, Potter," he scoffed in what he hoped was the same manner as he had always done. "You're the one that tripped us both up." He made an effort to look very busy brushing the grass off of his clothes, looking down at his trousers, but still watching Potter's face out of the corner of his eye.

"You were going too slow," Potter said with an easy shrug.

"If I were going any faster, I'd have busted my head open."

"It would have been alright. There's nothing in there to spill out anyway."

"Only because I'm smart enough not to kill myself flying." 

And just like that, they entered into an easy banter as if they didn't hate each other, as if they had just been friends this entire time. The insults were tame and unbarbed, meant as a bit of light jesting than to cause any actual pain, and Draco actually found himself chuckling to himself. Had he and Harry ever been together for longer than two minutes without trying to jinx each other?

Draco returned to the castle with something that he dared to call hope blossoming in his chest.

 

* * *

 

He really should see Madam Pomfrey. His stomach felt like someone had cast _Tarantellegra_ on it, and it made eating rather difficult. Perhaps he was ill. His cheeks did feel rather flushed. He tried to cool down this heat he felt underneath his skin with a glass of pumpkin juice, but he had chosen that exact moment to look up from his plate of mince pie. Like gravity his eye was drawn to the Gryffindor table, where those glittering emerald eyes were looking right back at him. He choked on his juice, some of it dribbling disgustingly out the corners of his mouth and down his chin. He turned quickly away, cheeks hot, and quickly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. To his chagrin, when he dared to sneak a glance across the Great Hall, Potter was chuckling to himself. Draco dashed toward the doors in mortification. 

Unfortunately, the Fates saw fit to give him Potions with him first thing after lunch. He sat in his usual spot at the front of the class, the only time he put in all of his effort, but he could sense all of his wits flying out the window the minute the Golden Trio walked through the studded door to the classroom. He dared to look, and to his utter dismay, Potter looked very much like he was looking at a puppy chasing its own tail. He shoved his nose into his Potions textbook in dismay. While it felt nice to have Potter's eyes on him, he didn't appreciate being laughed at.

Luckily, Professor Snape demanded everyone's attention when he burst through the door in a dramatic flair of robes. With a precise flick of his wand, the chalkboard at the front of the room sprung to life and began to write the words "Hate Potion." Before the spelled chalk had even finished its writing, Professor Snape had reached the podium, and he flicked around to face the cowering fourth years. He drummed his fingers along the edge of the wood, dark eyes searching for his first victim. Snape may have been his mentor growing up, a close family friend, but even he felt a shiver of fear when he turned on his teaching persona. His mentor had always believed in a Spartan teaching method. "Can anyone tell me what the effects of the Hate Potion are?"

Instantly, Granger's hand shot up, but Snape's eyes casually drifted over her. Draco wondered then, only vaguely, if Snape chose to constantly disregard Granger because of her friendship with Potter, or because of her dirtied blood. His thoughts were shaken out of him when his name was called. 

"Sir, the Hate Potion is often used to counteract the effects of a Love Potion." Granger wasn't the only clever student in Potions. He'd be damned if he'd let a Mudblood beat him in the one thing he took pride in.

His proud smirk was wiped away by Snape's sneer. "I didn't ask you what it is used for; I asked you for the potion's effects." He drawled the last word so that it ended in a hiss. 

Draco's spine straightened. "It causes the drinker to see the worst traits in a particular person."

Snape's head dipped in his version of a nod. "Yes. That is why it is used to counteract Love Potions, as you said. For surely once all you see is the worst in someone, you would no longer be infatuated with them. Conversely, the Love Potion can undo the effects of the Hate Potion. They are each the antidote and the poison."

Behind him, Bulstrode raised her hand. "Professor, if you were to drink a Love Potion to cure the effects of the Hate Potion, would you return to normal, or then be infatuated with the person?"

Snape lifted his right eyebrow in a subtle way that Draco had learned over the years meant he was reluctantly impressed but didn't want to show it. He had learned to strive for that look. On the other hand, the other eyebrow meant he was being painfully obtuse. He got that look more than he cared to admit. "The potions must be brewed at equal potency, or one might overpower the other. The best way to test these potions is on the other. Regrettably," Snape rolled his eyes, "the use of Love Potions on students is forbidden." He steepled his fingers. "However, the effects will only last for 24 hours, if brewed properly. As such, I will be assigning partners for this assignment. You will brew a sufficient Hate Potion, the recipe for which you will find on page 74 of your textbooks, with yourself as the focus. On the day your assignments are due, your partner will drink the potion, and you will be graded on efficacy and potency."

A wave of murmurs and whispers crashed through the students. Snape merely rapped his wand against the wooden podium and the noise died. "The effects will wear off. I'm sure no friendships will be destroyed over the course of this assignment." His oily smile and quick glance towards a certain group of Gryffindors told another story. "I also expect an essay over your brewing process, and the ingredients and how each of them affects the potion. Since the Hate Potion takes about a month to properly mature, that is when this assignment will be due. I will accept no late work, and no excuse of glory-seeking tournaments." His eyes fell on Potter, leaving no doubt to whom he was referring. "When I call your names, you and your partner will come to the front to grab your ingredients, and will spend the rest of the hour working on this assignment. If you forget any ingredients, you will not be compensated. Now, Nott, Avery."

With the dismissal, the noise of students rummaging through their book bags and opening their textbooks accompanied the hushed talking. Draco rested his chin on his knuckles, idly flipping the pages of his book until he found the correct recipe. It looked pretty complicated, a little above their year, but Snape was never known for going easy on his students. He half-listened to Snape reciting names. Likely he'd get paired with some other Slytherin. He wouldn't find it hard to hate any of them. Snape knew about the importance of his connections, and he wasn't likely to use this assignment to permanently damage his relationship with the heirs of prominent pure-blood families. Maybe he wouldn't get anyone in Slytherin at all. After all, they shared the class with the Gryffindors. He hoped he got someone with at least half their brain in their head. He hated pulling all of the weight. 

"Weasley, Granger." 

The Slytherins snickered, while the pair of Gryffindors stood up reluctantly, their faces both pale and murderous. Draco couldn't help smirking too. The infamous Golden Trio had only recently reconciled with each other, over whatever stick had been shoved up all their arses since Halloween. The fight between Weasley and Potter had been the gossip of the school, as had their reconciliation. It would be fun to see trouble return to paradise. 

The Weasel and the Mudblood passed by him on their way to the front to retrieve their items. Weasley looked scared, while Granger looked furious. He could even hear her griping under her breath to her companion. "...what he's doing. Partnering on assignments is about teamwork and mutual learning. This is purely antithetical. He's trying to..." Her words drifted away from him with the distance.

He looked around the room, and most of the students had already been paired off, clustered over their books and brass cauldrons. Still, his name had not yet been called, and his pool of potential partners was rapidly decreasing. A sick feeling of dread gripped him. Snape wouldn't really-

"Potter, Malfoy."

The buzz of conversation suddenly stalled, all eyes fixated on each of them as they gaped at each other from across the classroom. Their rivalry was common knowledge. Despite his training, he blurted out, "Why him?" 

Snape looked as equally unimpressed with his decorum. "Because both you and Mr. Potter have annoyed me lately. Now come to the front to retrieve your ingredients." His tone left no more room for argument.

Numbly, he stood up and walked to the front of the room. Had this been any other assignment, he would have been ecstatic that Potter would now be forced to spend time with him, but he couldn't help thinking that Potter was going to hate him by the end of this project, no matter what he did. He arrived at the front, gathering his things into one of the supplied brass cauldrons, just as Potter arrived. When finally they faced each other, he paused, unsure of what to do. He could feel all eyes on him, including Potter's, expectantly. He tried to school his features into a careful blank mask, but his father had always found it lacking, and he could just hear the tutting in his head. So he fell back on familiar ground. "I don't need a potion to show me all your worst traits, Potter. Try to put some effort into this assignment for once. I don't want my grades to drop down to your level."

His Housemates properly laughed and hooted. Potter was probably at the bottom of the class, save for Longbottom. He turned his gaze triumphantly away from his fellow students to look at his new Potions partner. He found this eyes focused on him and full of disappointment. Potter muttered a "sod off, Malfoy," before turning away and heading back to his seat. 

Draco couldn't help but feel as if he had failed some sort of test.

 

* * *

 

He didn't see Potter until nearly a week later. Well, actually, he had _seen_ him plenty of times, but the boy seemed determined to avoid him at all costs. And his two friends were sending him harsher glares than they normally would. He didn't do anything that he wouldn't normally do, so why was he suddenly being looked at as if he had been the one to kill Potter's parents? They had a Potions assignment together, so they were just going to have to pull up their breeches and get over it. Not to mention every time Potter purposefully looked away from him, it left an itching feeling under his skin that left him irritable and snappish. 

Luckily, he knew Potter's entire timetable, and so he knew the perfect time to grab him alone. After lunch on Mondays, the Golden Trio split up. Granger went to Arithmancy, and the Weasel and Potter were supposed to go to Divination, although they had been known to skip a class or two. With the ever observant Granger out of the way, it would be a cinch to get Potter alone.

The entrance to the seventh floor bathrooms was sent into a shadowy alcove, so that only a simple Notice Me Not Charm would keep him sufficiently hidden. The moment Weasley and Potter walked by in the empty corridor, he cast two sets of spells in quick succession. _"Confundo. Carpe Retractum."_

While Weasley stood there in a stupor, an orange rope of light shot out from his wand towards Potter, wrapped around his midsection, and then yanked him off his feet towards Draco. With a yelp, he realized he had overestimated the force of the spell, and Potter crashed into him, sending them both tumbling through the door and into the bathroom. They landed on the hard tile in a jumble of limbs and grunts. Draco only hoped his weak Confundus Charm would disorient Weasley enough to not think to follow those noises into the bathroom.

With a blink of his eyes, he found himself trapped between the dark tile of the no doubt dirty bathroom floor, and the warm weight of Potter on top of him. Potter seemed to realize their positioning at just the same moment, because a comely blush blossomed across his cheeks, and his eyes widened comically. Draco had just a second to think that the combination looked fairly pretty on him, before the boy pushed off of him with a heavy downward force on his chest that knocked the breath out of him.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Potter spat in indignation, though he now covered most of his face behind his hand. He still refused to look at him.

Draco clambered to his feet, straightening out his robes. "Well, if you didn't run away at the sight of me, I wouldn't have to spell you into my presence just to talk with you."

Sadly, the blush had cooled, and now Potter was looking at him as he had done all year. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"

"We're partners, you and I. Potions partners, I mean. We have an assignment we need to do together, remember?"

Potter folded his arms across his chest. "I don't see why we have to do it together. You brew your potion, and I'll brew mine."

"You haven't even looked at the recipe, have you? You need me in order to brew your potion."

"What? Do I require your hair or something? Then we'll just exchange hairs and be on our way."

Draco grit his teeth. Stupid, stubborn, little... "It's not hair. And I won't give you anything, unless you agree to work on this assignment with me."

Potter spluttered. "Wha-? I thought you didn't want me dragging you down?"

Now it was Draco's turn to flush. How was he supposed to tell him that he just wanted the excuse to spend time together without sending Potter running for the hills? Or worse, McGonagall. He had no doubt that the Gryffindors would only see this as some nasty Slytherin plot. So, like a fool, he blurted out the first thought that came to his head. "Well, we had fun flying together, didn't we?" He wanted to stab himself in the foot. His father would have severely scolded him for revealing his hand so easily as that. How was he supposed to manipulate Potter into spending time with him if he just handed over the entire deck?

But Potter didn't laugh at him, or sneer in disgust. He gaped a bit like one of the carps in the pond in the gardens back at the manor. "I must be barmy for thinking this, but, Malfoy, do you want to be my friend?"

Somebody must have slipped some Felix Felicis in his food that morning, because Draco could not believe his luck. When had any of his plans ever turned out so well. "Yes!" He coughed to hide the near shout, before he schooled his features into a more neutral, more Malfoy mask. "I-I would not be adverse to it."

"You have a funny way of showing it." But the corners of his lips were tugging up, as if he could just barely contain himself from grinning. His eyes darted down for a moment, before he looked up and said, "Fine. I have a free period on Wednesday, before lunch."

Draco almost said "I know." "We'll meet in the library, then?"

Potter nodded. 

"Good."

"...Can I go now? I'm late for class."

Draco snorted. "Not like you're missing much. Divination is a load of crock." 

Potter chuckled, despite himself, before turning to leave the bathroom. He gave Draco one last look over his shoulder before he left through the door. 

Draco stood in the bathroom just long enough to make sure that no passers-by might see them leaving the same bathroom together. He snuck out of the bathroom and strode down the seventh floor corridor, resisting the ridiculous urge to jump and click his heels.

 

* * *

 

With the announcement of the looming Yule Ball, the atmosphere of Hogwarts changed. A low chorus of giggling constantly followed the packs of girls that now clustered together in the hallways, and an overreaching feeling of nervous excitement hovered over all of the students. He had been planning to visit home for the Christmas holidays, but there was no way he could miss this. His parents understood, and in fact, encouraged it. Parties were his battleground. He had learned how to waltz and navigate a crowd long before he had learned potion making. All pure-blood heirs did. 

Of course, the downside was that now Pansy Parkinson hounded his every step, trying to coerce him into asking her to the ball. He had no such intentions, but he very well couldn't tell her the reason why. He thought about asking Zabini, just to shut her up, but his partner had already been decided by his parents. He knew who he finally chose would reflect on his family, but he just couldn't bring himself to pick one.

He shook his head. He had more important things to think about, like his study date with Potter. Crimson painted his cheeks. Poor choice of words. For the fifth time, he pulled a small hand mirror out of his bag. Not a single hair out of place, and that tonic his father sent him kept his skin clear of acne. 

"Fall in love with your reflection yet, Malfoy?"

With a start, he dropped the mirror, which luckily just happened to land back inside his bag anyway. He whipped his head around to see a disgusting mop of red hair. "What in the devil are you doing here, Weasel?"

"I've got the same assignment too, you know." Weasley sneered at him, dropping his books down on the table across from him. Behind him, Potter gave a nervous smile and a shrug as if to say _well, what can you do_. He took the chair next to Ron, the seat furthest from him. Draco couldn't help but think Weasley had done that on purpose.

"Why don't you go find your own partner to study with, then? Or did she not need to brew the potion before she got sick of your poor arse?" As far as insults went, Draco had to admit it was pretty substandard, but he felt a bit addled to learn that he was not in fact going to be spending time alone with Potter.

Weasley wound up, lips curled back in a barbed retort, but Potter interceded. "Why are you being like this? You're the one that wanted to work together. Ron won't interrupt us. He'll just observe." He shot his best friend a very pointed look.

That at least, shut him up. The rage bubbling up within him simmered down, and he relaxed more in his chair, though only a bit. "Right. Just observing." His brown eyes stared at him hotly. The message was clear. _I'm watching you_. 

So they really thought this was some ploy to jinx Potter or something. He would allow it for today, but he would have to get rid of Potter's chaperone. "Fine. No cheating off of Potter and me."

Weasley grumbled something no doubt vicious, but Draco had already decided to just ignore him. He wasn't about to let the Weasel ruin this chance. "So, Potter, have you had a chance to look over the recipe yet?"

He nodded, pulling out his book and flipping to the right page. "It doesn't seem that hard."

He couldn't resist. "I had no idea you had suddenly become a Potions Master, Potter. So you understand the purpose of each and every ingredient?"

He received a reproachful glare for his efforts. "Don't be a prat, Malfoy. I'm just saying it doesn't seem as complicated as all of the potions we've done before."

"You know Professor Snape. That didn't set off any warning bells for you? When have any of his assignments been uncomplicated?"

Potter looked like he might be sick. "That bad?"

"Don't worry. I'm top of the class, so this will be a cinch for me." He wished Potter were sitting next to him, so that he could scootch his chair just a bit closer, lean into his personal space with the excuse of pointing at something in his textbook. Though, he supposed it was just as well to have those eyes fixed on him.

A derisive snort interrupted, despite any previously made claims. "I bet you only beat Hermione because that greasy old git gives you better grades."

Weasley just earned himself a Stinging Hex in the very near future. "Professor Snape may be a little biased with regards to House Points, but what Head of House isn't? When it comes to teaching, however, he is very serious and never grades unfairly. His methods are harsh because he demands perfection. Mistakes in a potion lab can lead to death."

When he stopped his rant, he realized that he was standing, and other students in the library were watching him warily. Abashed, he sat down slowly. 

"You sound like you actually _like_ Snape." Potter looked appalled. 

"I respect him. He is one of the greatest Potions Masters of our time." Not to mention that he was Draco's godfather and tutor growing up. How could he learn from someone he didn't respect?

"So you really do like Potions?" The words held no disdain as the former question had. 

Draco felt himself preen under Potter's curiousity. "I do. Potions is an exact science. You can exercise control over every aspect of the potion, changing its properties as well as its purpose with confidence. There's always a level of uncertainty with spellcasting." He shrugged his shoulders, feeling a little silly for getting so passionate in front of Weasley of all people.

"Are we talking about the same subject?" Weasley said incredulously. 

"I've never felt that way about Potions," Potter agreed. "In fact, it always seems completely out of my control."

"That's because you never pay attention in class." Potter looked like he wanted to argue, but Draco continued on. "It's all in the ingredients, you see. If you understand them, and how they react with one another, then making the Potion comes easily. For instance," he flipped his book towards the glossary in the back, and then turned it around so that Potter could read it, "the Harpy feathers. Harpies are vicious monsters that capture evildoers during storms and torture them. They can only see the bad traits in people. Do you see why their feathers would be an ingredient in this potion?"

"So, that's what makes the potion find the bad traits in people?"

"It sets the purpose of the potion, but doesn't do the extraction itself. For that, we need mercury. It's used in most mental potions to pull thoughts or memories from a person's mind."

This time, when Weasley spoke up, it was not to hurl insults. "But isn't mercury...?"

"Poisonous? Yes. That's why you need the moly, or, as it is more commonly known, snowdrop. It negates the poisonous effects, so that the drinker is not harmed. Of course, you must keep the ratio between the two proportional, or one will overpower the other. And if the potion is under too high a heat, then it will burn off the medicinal properties of the moly, so that is why the recipe calls for a low simmer. See? One little mistake, and you've just made poison."

Potter visibly paled. "And Professor Snape wants us to drink this?"

"Don't worry. Mercury is only fatal in large quantities, and only causes insanity over prolonged exposure. This amount is likely only to give you a stomach ache, and Professor Snape always has antidotes for any possible problem on hand. His methods might seem harsh, but he'd never seriously injure one of his students."

The other two looked like they seriously doubted that, but studiously took notes. From then on, the study session surprisingly went rather well. When things were explained in-depth, Potter really seemed to understand. He wasn't too bad, when he actually put forth some effort. Draco wondered why he always did so poorly in class, then.

 

* * *

 

 

Uncle Severus had told him once that when he had his loyal followers at his heels, he strutted about as if he owned the school. Draco had replied that of course he did, he was a Malfoy. Snape rolled his eyes up to the skies in prayer. No matter what Draco did, his mentor still acted as if he were an incompetent house-elf. Still, despite whatever he might think, Draco enjoyed the way the younger students would part whenever he walked with his posse in tow. Crabbe and Goyle definitely held the bulky build to intimidate physically, while Pansy had perfected this up-and-down look that made people hide their heads in shame, and Blaise had the height advantage and a regal air about him that made others instinctually substrate themselves. And with confidant, cocksure Draco Malfoy spearheading the way, students practically leapt out of their way. They comprised his inner circle, though he considered all of Slytherin to be his followers. Well, except for that Mudblood Williams. 

Many of the First Years had learned what happened to those not quick enough. Just to be thorough, he hit a First Year Ravenclaw with a Tripping Jinx that sent her sprawling onto the stone floor of the clock tower courtyard. His inner circle dutifully snickered the appropriate amount for such an insignificant person. They settled themselves on the antique fountain's edge. Draco squirmed on the hard stone before he decided to add a Cushioning Charm. The weather had gotten colder, and so they all sat swaddled in their green and silver scarves. Unfortunately, any Warming Charms might melt his chocolate cauldrons, and so he had to bare numb fingers while eating his sweets. His mother liked to send him little cakes and crystallized fruit, but most weekends he'd pop down to Honeydukes for what he really craved. As the winter months approached, the clock tower courtyard wasn't really the most comfortable spot to hang out on, but he knew that Potter would be crossing the wooden bridge on his return from visiting that giant spawn. Sometimes, it seemed like Potter had picked the friends that would piss him off the most. He supposed he must have a soft spot for the underdogs. Surely once Potter saw him in his seat of power, he'd come to realize how truly superior his company was to others?

"So, Draco, a little birdie told me you were in the library with Weasley and Potter." Blaise Zabini, for all he appeared to be an ebony statue, loved to gossip. He hit Draco with a teasing grin, but he knew this subtle attempt to overthrow him for what it was.

"Potter and I have a Potions assignment together. Weasley was an unexpected addition."

"I understand your excuse. What I don't is why none of them have come after us in revenge yet. Unless, of course, they have nothing to be vengeful over." His smug grin said that he already knew that nothing outside of that small squabble had happened.

Pansy's eyes lit up with delight. "You were with Potter and didn't fight? So what's the angle this time? Trying to lower his guard?"

Even his inner circle thought he had some devious scheme up his sleeve. Well, to be fair, if he hadn't had his epiphany the day of the First Task, he probably would have. So how should he play this? Under no circumstances could anyone learn of his true goal, but how to keep them out of the way and without questioning him further? "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but my father's asked for me to get close to him. Gain his confidence." For once, he really hoped his father wouldn't hear about this.

Understandably, the other Slytherins were confused. "Why would your father order that?" Pansy asked.

"Something's going to happen at the end of this tournament." Draco had no such idea, but given Potter's track record, it wasn't that far of a stretch. "Father wants someone to keep an eye on Potter. And you know what they say: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." And he would like to get very, very close to Harry Potter.

"And you think Potter's gonna welcome you as his newest bosom buddy? Just like that?" Blaise scoffed. 

"Of course not. That's why I asked Professor Snape to put us together on that assignment." Entirely untrue, but let them think he had sway over a professor. "It's a work-in-progress, I'll admit. The only reason I'm telling any of you lot this is to keep you from cocking it all up." In a manner of speaking.

"Yessir," Crabbe and Goyle said dutifully. What was all that mess on their faces? Oh, they had gotten his chocolates while he'd been distracted. Oh well. They deserved it for that show of intelligence. 

"Message received," Pansy rolled her eyes while Blaise chuckled. 

He was just about to berate them for their uppity behavior, but then he caught sight of dark hair and red and gold. Potter was walking up the wooden bridge, scarf fluttering behind him in the breeze. He looked kinda cute, all bundled up like that. Like a little puffskein.

But before his smile could reach his face, Draco spotted someone running to catch up with Potter. Cedric Diggory caught Potter by the shoulder, turning him around slightly so that they were face to face. They were much too far for Draco to have any hope of overhearing, but Diggory still had his hand on Potter's shoulder, and he was leaning close to talk intimately with him. Then he leaned down even further, his grip on the Gryffindor's shoulder pulling him just ever so slightly closer, and for a wild second, Draco thought that Diggory had given the other boy a peck on the cheek, before he realized that he was merely whispering something in his ear.

He saw red.

By the time he had reached the wooden bridge, Diggory was already walking away, but not before a hastily sent Jelly-Legs Jinx sent him wobbling face-first onto the floor. The surrounding laughter helped slake the burning in his throat, and the rage died down. 

It completely vanished when Potter turned righteous emerald eyes on him. "What the hell was that for, Malfoy? I thought you were on his side?"

It took Draco an embarrassingly long time to figure out what he meant. "You mean the badges? That was never about supporting Diggory." After the First Task, Diggory had gotten nearly all of the Hufflepuffs to stop wearing them, and now only the Slytherins did, and really, only on Draco's orders.

Potter only glowered. "Right, it's about tormenting me." Then Potter stomped past him, not even pausing when their shoulders bumped.

Draco followed after him. He felt an insistent tug at the top of his stomach that he feared just might be guilt. He didn't want Potter to feel this way, he just... Of course, how could he feel anything good from his bullying? It felt as if there were two Dracos living on inside of him. One wanted to ruthlessly tease and torture Potter, anything to make those teary eyes turn towards him, but the other found little pleasure in Potter's suffering. He knew these feelings were foolishly contradictory, and that they weren't helping him to achieve his goal. 'What is my endgame, exactly?' he asked himself. What did he hope to come out of this absurd fascination with Harry Potter? Well, it certainly wasn't him storming off.

"Potter, wait, I-"

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy."

Damn, he had to fix this somehow. So he yelled out the only thing he could think of. "I'll get them to stop wearing the badges."

Finally, Potter halted, and then slowly turned towards him. His face was blank with confusion, but at least he was no longer angry at him. "What?"

"The Slytherins. I'll order them to destroy them." Some might keep some hidden, but as long as Potter didn't see any, that was just as well.  
Potter's face only scrunched up more in confusion. "That's...but why?"

His throat clammed up. He couldn't exactly tell him the real reason. Draco didn't even know what that was, really, and no convincing lie came to mind. Potter was staring at him expectantly, his gaze burning his face. "Well, that's because...well, er...." His stammering did nothing to lessen the Gryffindor's confusion, and so he did the only other option left open to him. 

He ran away.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Draco and Potter met up to work on their assignment, they used an old, unused classroom to brew their potions. To his complete relief, Weasley was not in attendance this time. The actual brewing wouldn't take very long, as hate does not take long to spark, but with time, would grow in power. They were starting a bit late, but Professor Snape had purposefully exaggerated how long the maturation process was, likely to ensure no student would have too weak a Hate Potion for the final showing. Even he could admit the sadism of his mentor's assignment.

"So we start off by filling our cauldrons with water," Draco said. He tapped the lip of his cauldron and it filled a third of the way with clear water. "It's a neutral substance to hold all of our ingredients."

For his part, Potter muttered a quick _"Aguamenti"_ at his cauldron. "But why brass? We've only used pewter cauldrons until now."

As always, he felt a swelling in his chest at the opportunity to show off his Potions knowledge. "Pewter is good for not affecting the potion, but brass is more conductive and in certain potions helps to kickstart the reaction you want."

"Then wouldn't copper be better?"

"We don't want to go that far. This potion is more sensitive than it lets on. If we used copper, it would likely cause an explosion of Finnegan-like proportions." That got a chuckle out of Potter, and Draco allowed the smile to split his face. "So we need to bring the water to a boil, and then we add the chopped Adder's Fork. It needs to soften up before we can add the Harpy feathers."

They fell into a concentrated silence, with only a few interruptions for Draco to offer instructions and explanations. Potter was nothing like he was in class, focused and asking intelligent questions. He wondered why he hid this side of himself, as if he wanted Professor Snape to admonish him. But some inner voice told him that the blame likely lay somewhere else.

He laughed at Potter's face when they came to the part where they had to add the essence of their focus to the potion. Draco leaned over Potter's cauldron and spit a huge globule of saliva into the potion. It flashed silver for a second before it returned to a murky brown.

"Ugh, that's disgusting."

"If we wanted to make a truly powerful Hate Potion, we would be using stomach bile instead."

"I'll thank you not to vomit into my potion."

Then they came to the final steps. Their potion now resembled burnt orange juice and smelt of something acidic. Now they had to only add the Ptolemy which would foment the maturation process. Draco hesitated with the vial of purple liquid. From underneath his eyelashes, he watched Potter tip the entire contents of his vial into the cauldron, giving a little start when it released a sudden poof of black smoke. Worrying his lip, he allowed only a single drop, before he quickly stoppered the glass vial and put it away in his bag.

"I don't understand."

With a start, he worried that Potter had caught on.

"Why are you acting so differently?"

Oh. "What do you mean?"

Potter looked away, briefly, some unknown emotion flickering across his face. Then he faced him head on, and Draco shivered under the full brunt of that gaze. "It's like...when you're with me, you're Draco, but when we're in front of other people, you're Malfoy."

His heart skipped a beat. "You can do that. Call me Draco, I mean."

The startled blush felt like a reward. "W-Why would I? Why would you want that?"

Draco leaned forward over his cauldron, the acrid stench of his potion wafting up into his nostrils. Ridiculously, he wanted to say "because I like the way it sounds on your tongue," but instead said, "Friends call each other by their first names, don't they?"

"Is that what we are?"

"I hope so." And for so much more.

A small smile, so fragile and delicate, that Draco held his breath so as not to blow it away. "Then you can call me Harry."

He melted. 

"But..."

His heart sank.

"...only if you treat me like Harry, not Potter, when we're not alone too."

The boy didn't know what he was asking. To do so would get rid of his failsafe; it would ruin his careful reputation, deny three years of cultivated rivalry, and if Potter should ever turn against him, would leave him alone and defenseless. He didn't hesitate to answer. "Only if you do the same."

"Of course, Draco."

Oh boy, was he in trouble.


	3. It's Not A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now he knew his face was red from more than the cold, and he became hyper-aware of where Hermione was standing next to him. He had to punch Draco on the arm. 'This isn't a date, Malfoy!' He stomped off."

The news went over about as well as he had expected. Hermione and Ron cornered him as soon as he returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. They always acted as if he had just come back from a trip into the Forbidden Forest. Their concern was touching, but he wished they could trust him a bit more.

"Harry, I just don't understand why you would even want to be friends with someone so duplicitous," Hermione said from her spot on the well-worn couch.

Ron nodded enthusiastically in agreement beside her. "Let alone Malfoy being nice is suspicious enough, but for him to only do so when you two are alone... That's gotta set off some warning bells in your head, mate."

Harry sat on the armchair closest to the fire, fingers idly picking at the golden fleur-de-lis stitching on the arm. He didn't appreciate feeling like a kid getting a scolding from his parents, even if he had never actually experienced such a thing. "Or he does that because he feels the need to keep up appearances around others. Besides, he's agreed to treat me nicer outside of our study sessions."

"Or he's only trying to lower your guard. The slimy snake is up to something, I just know it."

"He is paying you a lot more attention than usual." Hermione shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah, and attention from a Malfoy is never a good thing."

"Or maybe he's matured above such petty school rivalry." Even as he said it, Harry knew what a weak defense that was.

As expected Ron scoffed loudly with a dramatic eyeroll to top it off.

Hermione wasn't so crass. She leaned forward on her knees in worry. "Then what caused this sudden change of heart?"

Harry didn't want to think about that. If he analyzed Malfoy's motivations too much, he just might start to agree with his friends, and he didn't want to blow this chance just as it started. He'd come to realize that some part of him had always longed for this, ever since that fateful day on the train when he had rebuffed Draco's hand. He didn't regret it, not for a second. But he always wondered what it would have been like if Malfoy wasn't such a smarmy git. And he hadn't been acting very smarmy lately. First Year Draco had reminded him a lot of Dudley, but Fourth Year Draco didn't.

"Look, I'm not asking you to trust Malfoy. I'm asking you to trust me."

At that, Ron and Hermione shared a look before caving in. At least now he could explore this new thing without well-meaning interference from his friends.

"So," Hermione, ever in tune with the atmosphere, gracefully decided to change the subject, "how are you going to last an hour in the Black Lake?"

Harry suddenly wished she hadn't.

 

* * *

 

The day of their last study session together arrived too soon. With their potions already brewed and waiting in corked flasks, all they had left was to finish their essays. For the first time in his school career, Harry thought he might actually get a good grade. Why couldn't Draco have been his Potions professor? 'Or anyone but Snape,' Harry thought.

Harry had just put the finishing touches on his essay, looking over it proudly, when Draco spoke up. "I know this is our last session together and all, but..." He looked away just as Harry looked up. A small voice that sounded too much like Hermione whispered to him that he didn't want Harry to see the evil thoughts in his head. "There's no reason for us not to meet up without the excuse of this project."

"Actually, I was just thinking of asking you to tutor me in Potions." Harry ducked his head a bit, at the embarrassment of needing to ask for help. Potions had never made more sense than when Draco explained it. Snape always just bombarded them with information, and Harry had learned long ago that asking questions only got him mocked in front of the entire class.

Draco tilted his head in that way that made his long platinum bangs fall across his eyes, which created quite a dashing rogue look on the boy. His smirk only added to his boyish charm. Even Harry had to admit that puberty had worked some amazing magic on Draco Malfoy. "I was rather thinking of not always spending our time studying. Granger really has rubbed off on you."

"Oh. You're right. You wouldn't always want to study too."

Draco shook his head. "No, I'd be happy to tutor you. I was just thinking you might want another rematch." His eyes sparked in challenge. Draco had the strangest colored eyes, almost as silver as the blood of the unicorn they had found during their detention together in first year. That Draco had run away at the first sign of danger, but this Draco was willing to nose dive straight into the ground for fun.

"I feel like there has to be some rule against members of separate teams practising together."

"It's not practice. It's fun. Really, Harry, I never knew you to be so hard-working."

It was as if Draco had cast _Incendio_ on his face instead of saying his name. He really shouldn't feel his body heat up at just the sound of his own name, but it was thrown in so casually and said without the usual haughty sneer that he had been completely blindsided. And then, as if realizing that he had said something embarrassing, Draco also flushed, and looked away, suddenly finding one of the bookshelves incredibly intriguing.

A giddy rush of excitement bubbled up inside of him. "Why wait? Let's go now." He stood up abruptly, the clatter of his chair drawing the disapproval of Madam Pince. "Unless you think you're going to lose again."

That got the boy's attention. He too stood up with little care for the noise his chair made, or the indignant huff from the librarian. "You're on."

They rushed to put their school things away and to retrieve their brooms. And before either of them knew it, they were flying above the Quidditch Pitch. Flying in tight circles around the stands, the two of them were as graceful as any bird. Harry couldn't remember another time he had had so much fun. Despite buying himself onto the Slytherin team, Draco was actually a fairly decent Seeker. He looked forward to the Gryffindor-Slytherin matches, if only so he could really test his skills against a worthy opponent. Of course, he'd never tell any of this to his face. He needed to be taken down a peg or two. With a Peter Pan grin, he set to do just that, pulling his broom up to shoot towards the sun, a tactic he had been working on. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Draco's eyes squiting at the glare of the sun. He'd have to try this move with a Snitch next time.

"LISTEN, YOU TWO!"

Harry nearly fell off his broom from the vibrations of the Sonorous Charm that hit him. The two boys looked down to see a small blob of blue. With a look to Draco, he sent his broom down to the field.

Sure enough, the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team stood there. Their captain, Roger Davies, still had his wand pointed to his own throat from the charm he had used. At the sight of the two of them firmly on the ground, he lowered it. "Potter and Malfoy? What are you two doing together?" He didn't blame him for his surprise, a friendly practice match with just the two of them was completely out of character.

"Looks like we had the same idea you did, Davies," Malfoy said in his usual condescending drawl.

Even though no insults had been thrown, Davies still straightened his back to look taller as he glared down at the Slytherin Seeker. "No sense in getting rusty just because there's no Quidditch matches this year. After all, Ravenclaw's going to win the cup next year."

"Everyone's allowed to dream." Then Draco slung his broom casually over his shoulders and sauntered off.

Harry jogged to catch up to Draco, hearing Davies mutter something that sounded an awful lot like "uppity Fourth Years" as he passed him. Cho Chang smiled and waved at him, before turning her attention back to her captain.

He waved back, but her head had already turned. Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe he should ask her to the Yule Ball. She was fairly pretty, not as pretty as Fleur Delacour with her Veela genes, but still pretty. She smiled at him a lot, even when he acted like a fool in front of her. He allowed himself to imagine it, the two of them in their fanciest clothes, twirling in a sea of satins and silks. He'd probably be so tense from fear of looking like a git that he'd be a terrible date. Still, he had to find some girl as his date. McGonagall had told him that, as a Triwizard Champion, he was going to have to be one of the first to dance. He wondered if there was some way he could magic a dummy to take his place. Or maybe give Neville some Polyjuice Potion of him. The boy had been practicing dancing nearly every night since the announcement.

As if he could sense his train of thought, Draco said to him in a quiet voice to his left, "So who are you planning to take to the Yule Ball?"

Harry paused in front of the broomshed, gaping at Draco in horror. Why did everyone want to talk about these uncomfortable things? "No one, yet. Honestly, I wished I could just go stag, or, or, take someone just as friends, but everyone's already got a date. You?"

"No one's quite up to par. I have to be careful about who I choose."

That stumped him. "Why?"

Draco didn't answer immediately, instead, focusing on putting his own Firebolt back onto its rack and making sure his Anti-Theft Charms were up. "News of who I take will get back to my parents. If it's someone they don't believe could further benefit our reputation, they will be...displeased."

"Why would your parents care about who you take to a school dance?" Harry found the idea rather silly.

From the look on his face, Draco did not. "My parents are very careful about everything regarding me, as I represent the Malfoy family. I can't bring any shame or dishonor on our reputation. I have no doubt I will receive an owl soon on which pure-blood family heirs would be most appropriate for me to take as my date."

"They're going to pick your date for you?" Harry wrinkled his nose.

Draco hesitated, dragging his fingers haltingly along his broom handle, not looking at him. "They pick out everything for me."

That sounded...annoying. Harry would have lost his mind if people kept telling him what to do. "Well, then, if you could choose, who would you want to take?"

The blond pondered for a moment, before turning to Harry, dare he say, shyly. "You."

A thrill raced up his legs and through his heart. No one had ever chosen him before. He laughed nervously. "Don't be silly. You can't take a bloke as your date." Was it just him, or did he sound a little loud just then?

Draco wrinkled his brow. "Of course you can. Word has it that Finnegan's going to take Thomas. I don't know who Finch-Fletchley's going to take, but it will most certainly be a 'bloke.'"

Harry felt as if Draco had just pulled the rug out from under him. "Finnegan and Thomas? No, no, I would have heard... They're not like that. They can't be." Thoughts raced through his head. Could he really have been sleeping next to a couple of... _those types_ and not even realized it? Did Ron know? Did Neville? Draco didn't seem disgusted, and he wasn't laughing or sneering. In fact, he was looking at Harry as if he had been the one to say something crazy.

"Just as friends, of course," Draco added. "Wouldn't it be more fun if you didn't have to worry about impressing your date?"

Something inside Harry relaxed, and he allowed himself a smile. "That does sound like fun. We could take the mickey out of all the silly couples mooning over each other."

Draco smiled mischievously too. "Charm the floor to be slippery."

"Spike the punch with Singing Solution."

"We'd need to invest in some ear muffs then."

The two of them broke into giggles. Harry never realized that Draco would have a delightful deviousness in him to rival the Weasley twins. He supposed that wasn't too un-Slytherin though.

 

* * *

 

Many people underestimated Ron's cleverness in Harry's eyes. Not only in chess, but in dire situations such as these. When Hermione had demanded that, as the only other members of S.P.E.W., that they help her in recruiting, Ron had claimed that he needed to go down to the library to work on his Potions essay, knowing full well the swot would only accept that as an excuse. Unfortunately, Draco had been such a good Potions partner, for the first time in his schooling, he had finished his essay early, and Ron knew it. It all fit so well into his little scheme, with Harry as the scapegoat. He doubted the boy was even in the library right now.

"Harry, don't glower at everybody. You're sending away potential members," Hermione scolded him as she grabbed another badge from the box of them she was making him carry.

He regretted her naming him Secretary. If he'd known how much time this pointless club was going to take... With a sigh, he let his frustration go. Hermione didn't mean to bother everyone, she was only trying to right an injustice that it seemed only she could see. Her cause was noble. Harry had joined for Dobby, who was greatly enjoying his freedom as the only paid elf at Hogwarts. For mistreated elves like Dobby had been, he could undertake championing this cause, but most of the house-elves didn't want to be freed. They enjoyed serving, and took Hermione's attempts to leave them hand-knit socks and hats as an insult.

His inner monologue was interrupted by a browbeaten Neville's "fine, fine, take my sickles, just leave me alone." Hermione glowed in triumph, releasing her victim, but not without forcefully pinning the badge to the front of his school robes. Harry remembered with a smile that this was the same girl who had punched Draco Malfoy in the face last year. Heaven help any poor soul that decided to cross Hermione Granger.

"Speaking of badges..." She returned to him, placing the two sickles into the black drawstring pouch that she put inside the box too. "I haven't seen any of those 'Potter Stinks' badges lately."

Despite himself, Harry let a small grin light up his face. "He kept his word."

"Who did?"

"Draco. He said he'd get the Slytherins to stop wearing them, and I guess he did."

"Really?" Hermione looked completely boggled. A not very flattering look on her, he was afraid. "So he really wants to be your friend, huh? Do you think he's really changed for the better?"

In a burst of sudden honesty, he said, "I want to."

She studied him with an unnervingly serious look that left him feeling a bit squirmy. After so long of a silence that Harry had thought the conversation over, she said, "I want to see what he's like, when he's with you."

After that fiasco with Ron, he didn't think that was such a great idea. Hermione had a much more personal hatred against Draco than either of them did. He'd probably call her a Mudblood and then she'd hex him or more likely, punch him in the face again. As hilarious as that would be, he didn't want to have to choose between the two of them, because he knew now who would win. This new relationship was too fragile to put to the test now.

As if sensing his thoughts, she added, "I'll need to borrow your Invisibility Cloak. I want to see what he's like when the two of you are alone. I want to see the real Draco Malfoy."  
Harry wasn't quite sure which one that was.

 

* * *

 

Now that it was December, snow had really begun to pile up on the ground and pinch Harry's nose. Although Hogsmeade always looked like something off of a Christmas postcard, it really blossomed in December. The marshmallow-topped cottages were decorated in holly wreaths and snowberries. Inside nearly every store, fairy lights made of actual fairies framed the frosted windows and hung on Christmas trees. Horse-drawn sleds left long lines in the road that enchanted shovels were constantly struggling to keep clear. Something about this time of year just made him feel excited, even though he could count the number of happy Christmases he had had on one hand.

Even Draco seemed to be susceptible to the merry spirit, pale cheeks rosy red from the cold and silver eyes sparking with well-contained mirth. The cold really was his element. The pristine white of the fallen snow made his normally pale features golden with color, and the wind seemed to swirl around him like an embrace from a dear old friend. Harry wondered if there was such a thing as ice magic that let one bend the snowy elements to their will.

"I'm surprised you'd ask me to go to Hogsmeade with you, Harry," Draco smiled from underneath his green and silver scarf.

"That's what friends do, right?" Harry smiled coyly back at him.

Draco's eyes suddenly darted from him to something over his shoulder. He turned around in fear, thinking Draco had noticed Hermione underneath the cloak, even though she had been so careful to magically erase her footprints behind her. However, his gaze went past her to a couple holding begloved hands together, gazing at each other soppily.

"And more than friends," the Slytherin boy said in a voice that left him feeling hot, despite the cold wind. "Tell me, are we headed for Madam Puddifoot's next?"

Now he knew his face was red from more than the cold, and he became hyper-aware of where Hermione was standing next to him. He had to punch Draco on the arm. "This isn't a date, Malfoy!" He stomped off.

Draco laughed, even as he rubbed his arm and ran through the snow to catch up to him. "Back to Malfoy, am I?"

"When you start to act like Draco, I'll start calling you that."

"Strange that I can't seem to think of you as anything other than Harry."

Harry's heart gave such a loud and powerful beat, that he had to stop to catch his breath.

Draco stopped too, as if that was the natural conclusion of their journey. His eyes scanned the thin crowd roaming the streets, people preferring the warm indoors to the snow. His gloved hand came up to play with a lock of Harry's hair idly, only for a second, before it fell back down to his side. "Your hair is getting rather long. Maybe we should pop in to the hairdresser's and give it a proper cut?"

What was with him today? What was with Draco? "I like it."

The sneer on his face showed how much he thought of that. "You look like a rabid werewolf. I bet you could hide stuff in there. Or do you plan on growing it out completely? I would highly advise against that. You don't have the hair for it."

Harry wasn't as opposed to that as he thought. Sirius looked quite dashing with his long hair and stylish goattee. Of course, the last time he had seen him in person, his beard and hair had looked mangy and wild from his time on the run.

Draco continued prattling on. "Now Malfoys, on the other hand, our hair is sleek and heavy. We look very dignified with long hair."

"Do you plan to grow your hair out, then?" Harry hoped he didn't. He would look too much like his father then.

"Not right now. I haven't earned it yet. Likely, when I graduate from Hogwarts, my father will expect me to."

He frowned. "You'd let your father pick out your hairstyle for you? What about what you want?"

Now Draco was looking at him as if he had been the one to make fun of his hair. "What I want is to be a proper heir to the prestigious Malfoy family. My appearance is how I present my family to the world. My father has greater knowledge of these things, and so I should respect his decision."

Harry shook his head, flinging snowflakes everywhere. One hit Hermione under the cloak, and hovered seemingly in mid-air for a second, before melting. None of this made sense. "So you would just let your father choose your hairstyle for you?"

"Everything has been chosen for me," Draco snapped, his silver eyes darkening to a stormy grey. "What I wear, who I speak to, what I study. I've been bred from birth to be the perfect Malfoy Heir. If I mess up, I could ruin my family, shame generations of tradition and superiority. In order to please Father, I must obey him."

The situation sounded familiar. The Dursleys had controlled all aspects of his life growing up, had forced him to do chores, wear ill-fitting clothing, decided what and how he ate. It had burned him up inside. Some nights, he couldn't sleep for the frustration and anger that filled his lungs. He hated it, and he hated his relatives. Draco certainly wasn't forced to do manual labor or denied meals, but how could he willingly subjugate himself to that? How was he any different from a house-elf? "How can you stand that? If your Father ordered you to drown yourself in the Black Lake, would you? Have you never had an original thought? Have you never chosen anything for yourself?" Was even this under his Father's orders, as some way to...to grab hold of his fame? Revenge for Voldemort?

"That's not true." Draco spoke so softly that Harry barely heard him over the wind. "That day...on the train, when I held out my hand and offered you my friendship, that was my choice. My father hadn't been pleased with it, either." He turned his gaze away, and Harry took in a big gulp of air, finally able to breathe. "I realize now, I went about it all the wrong way. That's why now I..." He shook his head, hitting Harry with that intense look again, and he lost what air he'd gained. "I chose you, Harry."

And now it felt like he had too much oxygen, filling up his head and his heart until he thought they both might pop like a balloon. He had the strange urge to cry, which he blamed on the bitter cold wind bashing against his face. He thought there might just be something addicting about the way Draco was looking at him right now. No one had ever looked at him that way before, as if they could see past Harry Potter, past The-Boy-Who-Lived, past the freaky wizard, to that small fragile candle flame that just longed to be fed. So many nights he had laid awake, wondering what life would have been like if Voldemort never existed, if his parents had never died and he was just some boy. Would people still want to be his friend then?

This felt too raw. He had to turn away and walk through the snow or he just might die of asphyxiation. With a light breeze, the moment was blown away, and his heart settled into a normal pace. Draco kept up with his hurried pace easily. He cursed the boy for having such long legs, the only thing that gave him the slight height advantage. "So where are we headed then?" Draco's voice was as light as the snow drifting around them.

"Spintwitches. I ran out of broom handle polish."

"Polish your handle often, then?" Draco was leering at him in that way that meant he was teasing him, but Harry didn't understand what he was being teased for.

"Of course. My Firebolt was a gift from my...from someone. It'd be rude not to take care of it. Do you not take care of your broom?"

"Oh yeah, I take good care of it. I like to lie in bed and give it a good polish most nights, some mornings too."

Harry quirked his head to the side. "You do it lying down? That sounds difficult."

For some reason, Draco only shook his head with a put-upon sigh. "You're too easy. It's not even fun anymore."

He was going to ask him just what was, but then a shiver shook his entire body. It really was cold today.

Draco sighed again, pulling out his wand, and Harry tensed in reflex, but no hex came his way. Instead, an unnatural warmth seeped through his limbs as if he had been sitting by a fire instead of walking through the snow. "Really, Harry, it's like you forget you're a wizard sometimes. Can't you even manage a simple Warming Charm without Granger to hold your hand?"

Over his shoulder, he heard an unmistakable snicker, and in retaliation, he kicked up some snow behind him. The muffled, indignant huff satisfied him. Deciding to just ignore the both of them, he headed towards the sporting goods shop, where a Firebolt was displayed in the front window, surrounded by a string of golden tinsel with little Snitches dangling from it. The inside of the shop was warm, a little hot even, with all of the students crowded inside. He worried, briefly, about how Hermione was going to follow them in the tight throng without being discovered, but as he made his way inside, he didn't hear anyone complaining about running into an invisible person. He saw Matilda, the shopkeeper's niece that ran the store sometimes. She was a nice woman, old enough to be an adult, but young enough to still be treated like a child by her uncle. She had given Harry a lot of good tips on Quidditch and broomsticks when he had first entered the shop his first official trip to Hogsmeade. As much as he would like to talk shop with her, she was surrounded by a group of third years he didn't recognize, so he went to look for the polish on his own.

The leftside of the shop had a narrow set of stairs that followed along the wall to reach the upper shelves. From up there, Harry could see the whole store. It wasn't as packed as it had looked from ground level, and he could see Colin Creevey Christmas shopping for his brother. Past them he spotted the Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang talking animatedly with Cedric Diggory. He felt a little twinge of jealousy in his stomach. Cho Chang was a really pretty girl. Although, Cedric was also a very handsome boy. And kind and noble and clever. He had proven himself to be of a good sort over the year, but any bloke would feel a little inferior compared to him, especially as an unwilling Triwizard Champion.

Draco saddled up to his side, arm pressing against his, but it was a rather narrow set of stairs. He followed Harry's gaze, frowned, and then beamed brightly. "Ah, I had heard that Diggory had asked Chang to the Ball. I guess they're an item now. That's good news."

Harry turned his head at that. "Since when did you care about other people's love lives?"

"I don't, but with those two already taken, that reduces the competition." He should have guessed that would be the reason. "You looked a little upset at seeing them together. Tell me, are you jealous of Diggory? Or of Chang?"

Why did he always come out of nowhere with these embarrassing questions? "Cho? Why would I be jealous of Cho? I mean, I'll admit they look really good together, but it's not like I was planning to ask her to the Ball or anything. I just can't help but compare myself to Cedric, and I... It makes me feel a bit lacking."

Now it was Draco's turn to look bewildered. "You feel inferior to Cedric Diggory?" He laughed, but it was more of a surprised bark than jesting. "You? The Boy-Who-Lived? You took down a dragon, and if Dumbledore is to be believed, a basilisk as well. You managed to get your name into the Goblet of Fire even though you're only fourteen. If you can't get a date, then who bloody can?"

He felt hot underneath that torrent of praise. "You know, Ron said much the same thing to me once. And I didn't put my name into the Goblet. I don't know how it got in there, but it wasn't me."

Draco raised a blond eyebrow. Harry felt a stab of envy. He couldn't do that. "Really? I think someone's trying to off you, Harry."

He chuckled. "He said that too."

The blond gagged. "Stop comparing me to the Weasel. That's disgusting."

He outright laughed now, but when a sobering thought came to him, it died quickly. "Do you think... Might your father perhaps know about who put my name in there, if I'm really being targeted?" Asking that question felt wrong, but Lucius Malfoy was known for having Death Eater sympathies, and Harry highly suspected him of being one, especially after second year.

Draco didn't look nearly as offended as he thought he would be. "Even if he did, do you really think he would tell his fourteen year old son about his plans to assassinate The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry." Feeling a bit dumb, he continued up the stairs to where he knew the polish was stored. He scanned the shelves looking over small glass jars of waxes and oils.

Draco followed him, looking at the shelves as if he too planned to purchase some. "Back to the topic at hand, have you found your date yet? Anyone caught your eye?"

Why did everyone always want to talk about this? "Not really. I haven't thought about it."

He was hit with that same deadpan stare as when he had received the Warming Charm. "It's only a couple of weeks away."

"I know, I know. It's just... no one's really caught my eye. I'm already going to have to make a fool out of myself dancing in front of everyone, I'd rather not have an up-close and personal audience to that."

"You'll look more foolish dancing on your own."

"I know that," he snapped. He already knew this ball was going to be a disaster for himself, he didn't need everyone reminding him.

"Why don't you take Granger? Just as friends? Her hair's even worse than yours. You'll look better by comparison."

He frowned at him. "Don't talk about her like that. And I'm sure she's gotten offers already."

Draco snorted.

"Yes, she has. You might be a prejudiced little ferret, but she's a beautiful person with a heart of gold. Who wouldn't want to take her to the ball?"

Draco scowled, likely at the ferret comment. "You sound like you're in love with her."

He couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. "Merlin, no! She's practically my sister."

His dark look let up only a smidge. "And Weasley?"

"Ron? He's a bloke! Not to mention, also like family to me."

"And the Weaselette? I've seen her throwing those doe eyes at you."

"Ginny? Let's just say that all Weasleys are family, and thus off-limits."

Draco straightened his back. Harry hadn't even realized how much the other boy had been looming over him. He looked decidedly less angry now, though his face had that porcelain blank expression he wore when he didn't want people to read his emotions. "No one in Gryffindor? Longbottom? McLaggen?"

"Why do you keeping picking boys? No. They're just mates."

"Then how about..." Uncharacteristically, Draco turned away shyly, biting his bottom lip, and fiddling with his cloak. "What about me?"

"Huh? What about you?"

Seeming to notice his twiddling, Draco put his hands behind his back, chest sticking out in a manner that reminded Harry of those little tin soldiers he'd had in his cupboard. "What if you took me to the ball, you know, as friends?"

Harry set a glass jar he had been examining back on the shelf. "I thought you were just joking before. We can't possibly go together."

"Why not? Because I'm a boy, or because I'm a Malfoy?" Sheesh, why was he acting so defensive?

He imagined it, the two of them dancing in front of the whole school, in front of Dumbledore. He nearly died of shame just thinking about it. "Both actually."

Now that dark scowl returned and Draco was looming over him again. "Would it really be so horrible?"

Harry wouldn't be intimidated. "Yes! Would you really want to dance with me in front of everybody? I thought you were worried about your reputation. If you dance with me, by the next morning the Daily Prophet is going to announce to the world that you're a pouf, and you're...I dunno, seducing the Boy-Who-Lived to the Dark Side or something. They always make up such rubbish."

"I don't care about that gossip rag."

"But you care about what your father thinks, don't you? How would you feel about him knowing you went to the Yule Ball with Harry Potter, of all people. He'd probably disown you."

Draco growled. An honest-to-god growl. Was he a werewolf? Surely Harry would have been able to recognize one by now. "You are so infuriatingly..." He faded off into a huff. "Fine. If we were alone, away from prying eyes, would you go with me then?"

"Well, sure, I guess, but what would be the point then?"

The looming stopped, and again Harry felt air return to him and the world lighten a little. Maybe he was part Dementor. Was that possible? "Beyond your comprehension, apparently. You'll still need to find a dance partner though. A girl to settle your delicate sensibilities."

He took offense to being called delicate. Could this delicate boy have whooped his butt at Quidditch every year? "So back at square one." He didn't get why Draco was being such an insufferable bastard to him all of the sudden. Was he really that upset that he didn't have a date yet? They were having such a great time before, he really didn't want to leave Hogsmeade like this.

"Yeah. Back to square one."

 

* * *

 

They returned to Hogwarts talking as if their little squabble had never happened, and Harry was perfectly happy to keep it that way. When they entered the castle they parted ways amicably, but he couldn't help this foreboding feeling. That feeling only got stronger when he returned to the Gryffindor Common room and Hermione suddenly appeared with the wave of a cloak. Oh right. He had forgotten about her towards the end there. The Common room was luckily empty, most students in the Great Hall for dinner or still out at Hogsmeade. The visits were relatively unsupervised and under the simple time constraint of being back at the castle before nine o'clock.

He stood nervously next to the sofa, awaiting her verdict. Hermione carefully folded the Invisibility Cloak and handed it back to him. She had that look on her face that meant she was thinking very hard about something. It usually meant bad news for him. They stood there for an uncomfortably long time, only the sounds of the fireplace to break the awkward silence.

"You two really seem to get along," Hermione finally said. "Even when you're fighting."

He didn't know what to say to that so he just nodded dumbly.

"It almost seems fated."

His face scrunched up in confusion. "That doesn't sound like you. You never seemed to believe in prophecies or destiny and all that."

"I don't mean it like that. It's just, when you take away the hatred, your two personalities actually seem to compliment each other pretty well. If the circumstances of your first meeting had been different or if you had never met Ron..."

He didn't want to imagine his time at Hogwarts without Ron.

"...I feel like you two would have been friends much earlier. Or in the future, ten years from now, or maybe even twenty, once you had both matured, you still would have gotten together."

"Are you trying to say we've got some weird fate-bond to be friends or something?" That sounded a little too intense for just a friendship between schoolmates.

She gave him an unreadable look. "Maybe you two are reincarnations of two lovers or something."

"L-lovers? We're both male."

"So? Maybe your past selves were a boy and a girl, and in this iteration it has flourished as an unlikely friendship. Of course, this is all mere speculation. Reincarnation has never been proven, and there is just as much evidence to the contrary. It's an old concept but a new field of study."

He held his hand up to stop her before she started reciting entire articles. "That's all well and good, but what do you think of us right now?"

She paused for a moment, her brown eyes searching his face. "He really does appear to have turned over a new leaf, and you seem happy with him, so I'll accept him..."

He let out a sigh of relief. If Hermione had really put her foot down about this, he would have had to let Draco go.

"...on one condition. Or well, I guess to say four conditions, really. He has to apologize to us for his behavior in the past. That includes Hagrid. I'd have him apologize to Buckbeak too, but there's no way to do that without putting Buckbeak in danger."

This newfound friendship was as good as dead then. "But Hermione-"

Now it was her turn to hold up a hand to silence him. "I will not budge on this, Harry. Besides, would you really want to be friends with someone who calls your best friend a 'Mudblood'?"

No, of course not. He supposed he had been willfully ignoring that part of Draco. But he just couldn't imagine the Slytherin apologizing to all of them. Harry, sure, maybe even Ron and Hermione, but Hagrid... She was right, of course, as always. He really didn't want to be with someone who said such hateful things about his dear friends. Eventually, it would have driven them apart anyway. He would miss Draco though.

"I understand Hermione. I'll...I'll tell him that if he can't apologize for his actions by the end of the year, then we can't see each other anymore."

Finally, she smiled at him in approval, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If my suspicions are correct, then that should work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is such a sweetie.


	4. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Bloody hell, it really is him.' Weasley turned his gaping gob to Harry then. 'Mate, what did you do to get him like this? He's practically decent.'"

Never before had Draco dreaded a Potions class as he did today. The joy of his not-a-date with Harry at Hogsmeade had wiped his mind of their relationship's impending doom. Once Harry saw all the worst traits in him, the spell would be broken, persay. His anxiety had only been amplified by these strange, almost gloomy looks Harry had been sending him. They hadn't had the chance to meet up since then, so he had no idea what was on the boy's mind, but he got the distinct feeling that he was about to get dumped, which made no sense, since the two of them weren't even dating. And the stupid, stubborn Gryffindor had turned down all his attempts to ask him to the Yule Ball. His pride had taken quite a beating that weekend. He just needed to make Harry understand that same-sex relationships were okay, and then the boy would realize what a catch he was, and then...

He shook his head. This was no time for such pipe dreams. None of it would even be possible at the end of this class. Snape was going to smother any spark before it could build into a fire.

Speak of the devil, the Potions Professor marched into the classroom with all his usual, abrupt flair, taking his place at the front of his class to look over his weary prisoners. "I trust everyone has brought their Hate Potions and essays today?" His dark, beady eyes scanned the morose faces for any sign of fear. Luckily, no one was to receive an automatic fail.

"Wonderful," his voice was completely monotone. "Now it is time to test them. When I call your names, I would like for you and your partner to come to the front of the class, drop your essay off on my desk, and then you will take your potions. It will be a bitter medicine for some of you." Was it just him, or did Snape's eyes rest on him just a little too long? "Weasley, Granger, you first." There was no denying the manic glee on their professor's face.

The two Gryffindors nervously made their way to the front, setting their parchment down on the oaken desk before turning to face each other. Weasley clutched his potion flask in hands so sweaty, Draco could see it slip down his fingers once or twice. Granger, admirably, remained stoic and strong, not giving Snape the satisfaction. She probably believed that their friendship was stronger than any potion. What a fool. Potions under the artful care of a master could make a lame man dance.

"Switch potions. Now, Granger, you first. Take Weasley's potion, and then I want you to tell us what your opinions are of Mr. Weasley here." He never thought he'd see her glare so viciously at a teacher before. Still, she uncorked her vial and swallowed the whole potion in one go.

The class waited with bated breath. Nothing seemed to change for a moment, and then Granger's nose pulled up in revulsion. "Ron, when was the last time you washed your hair?"

The whole class roared with laughter, and Weasley turned as red as his dirty hair. "Just the other night. I was going to take a bath tonight."

"What else, Granger?" Snape prompted.

"He's idiotic, stupid, and relies on others to get through school. He's so busy living in Harry's shadow that none of his accomplishments will ever be good enough for him, which only lowers his self-esteem more, making him bitter towards people who hold no ill-will towards him. He constantly smells of body odor, he eats like a pig, and his family's so poor that he can't even afford the skin products to treat his unfortunate acne."

No laughter filled the classroom now, only the sound of Granger listing off every single insecurity and flaw of her friend's. Weasley looked like he just might cry. Draco could see now the truly heinous and evil nature of Snape's plan. Not only were your worst features revealed to your partner, but now to the entire class. He was forcing these students to choose between their grades and their dignity. But the project was such a large part of their grade, he didn't think that anyone could afford the fail.

And then, when it was Weasley's turn, he gulped down the potion spitefully, and held nothing back, attacking her appearance, her muggle background, and her know-it-all attitude. The Draco of last year would have loved this, would have laughed his arse off, but he only felt sick to his stomach. By then end of it, the two Gryffindors couldn't even stand to look at each other.

A wicked grin split Professor Snape's face. "Well done. Granger, that was a particularly well-brewed Hate Potion. You must have done Weasley's for him."

"I told you he was stupid," Granger muttered, arms crossed in front of her.

"Yes, five points to Gryffindor for such an excellent display. Now return to your seats." The points were little boon in the wake of the growing animosity between the two. They couldn't even stand to sit next to each other, scooting their stools as far away as possible. In fact, the points might have just been salt in the wound.

Over the next hour, students went up to the front as partners and left as humiliated enemies. Draco was worried the class might break out into fights by the end if this tension kept rising. By the time Draco's and Harry's names were called, his nerves were completely frayed. If he had a nervous breakdown and fainted, would he get out of testing his potion?

He stood by the podium, facing Harry who looked just as ill as he felt. On Snape's order, they shakily exchanged their potions. Draco was so nervous that he didn't feel any spark of joy at brushing his fingers against Harry's.

"Potter, you first. Tell us your thoughts on Mr. Malfoy."

Harry grimaced and drunk his potion. Draco's heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he almost missed it when Harry started to speak. "He's a stuck-up git who's too used to getting his own way."

Everyone sat in silence, waiting for more that didn't come. After a pause, Snape said, "Well?"

Harry looked at him in confusion. "What?"

Draco could almost see the vein pulsing in the professor's large forehead. "Anything else?"

"He's annoyingly tall? I don't see anything else, professor."

Then, Professor Snape turned his wrathful gaze onto him, and Draco felt as if he had drunk a Shrinking Solution. "I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Malfoy. This is a pitifully weak Hate Potion. I can see that it has failed to mature."

The disappointment from his mentor was nothing compared to the relief he felt at Harry's blank stare. Harry didn't hate him. They were saved.

"Now let's see if Potter has done as abysmal a job as you."

His heart sunk. Harry had done acceptably, he'd made sure of it. He cursed himself for not thinking of sabotaging his partner's potion as well. He didn't want to go back to hating Harry. Malfoy was a spiteful, unhappy individual, but Draco had hope and friendship. Feeling as if he were drinking poison, he tipped back the vial and let the bunt orange liquid travel down his throat. It was horribly bitter, like drinking charred kale, and the taste lingered in his mouth. He blinked a couple of times, looking over at his partner who was as still as a statue.

Then, slowly he noticed certain things, or more like realized them. He could see the unkempt mess of hair atop Harry's head, see the unflattering largeness of his glasses. His nose looked a bit wonky too. His limbs were gangly, and he was a bit too skinny. It made him look like an over-large house-elf. Overall, Harry was quite unattractive. He didn't need his professor to urge him to open his mouth and speak. "Harry Potter is ugly. His glasses are crude, his clothes unfashionable, his hair is a mess. Is he trying to make it look like a lion's mane? Is that the new Gryffindor style?" A couple of students still seemed to have enough cheer to snicker weakly. "He hates attention, and yet he craves it. He's so desperate to please people, but can't accept their praise. He has no regard for the rules, thinks that he's always right, and thinks he's just better than everyone else. His head is so far up his own arse I don't think he'll ever see the light of day. He's prejudiced, gives up too easily when things get hard, and never wants to put his full effort into anything in case he fails."

Harry looked completely devastated, his neck and ears flushed with shame, and tears stung the corners of his eyes that were riveted on him in horror. Isn't this the look he had always strived for? Isn't this what he wanted? "There's an anger in him, a dark, dark hatred for everyone."

Snape was beaming as if it were Christmas morning. He knew his mentor to be tough and harsh, but never this cruel. "And yet..." The smile dropped. "...despite that, there's this love for magic, for his friends and family. He loves them all desperately, and he's angry at them too. Why?" He felt the potion in his bloodstream, pushed it to look further, to look deeper. "Why is he full of so many contradictions? If you love everyone why do you hate them?" Harry's face no longer held that horror, his eyes had tried, but this new emotion on his face was something Draco didn't know the word for. Then it hit him, like a bolt of lightning, like that scar. "You're angry at them because you don't think they love you as much as you love them. You want attention, but not because you're The-Boy-Who-Lived or the Triwizard Champion. You can't trust people to be nice to you."

Now a tear really did fall, but not from Harry's face, but from his own. Why in the blazes was _he_ crying? He quickly, and as casually as he could, wiped it away. He could see understanding dawn on Harry's face. But he didn't know Harry completely yet, he had to look deeper, had to know this boy inside and out. "You-"

"Enough!" Draco had completly forgotten about Snape and the rest of the students because of his tunnel-vision focus on Harry, and the loud command made him jump. Snape looked angry, but also a little bit disappointed. Probably something had gone wrong with Harry's potion. He certainly didn't hate him, he realized with relief. In fact, if anything, he felt even more strongly towards him. "Class is dismissed. Mr. Malfoy, stay after class."

The classroom erupted into a wall of noise, the students eager to leave this torture dungeon. Harry stood awkwardly across from Draco, looking between him and the professor.

Snape noticed these looks and drawled, "Your presence will not be required, Mr. Potter."

With one last look at him, Harry bowed out and went to retrieve his things. Draco felt a pang of loss at his departure. There were still so many things he needed to understand.

When finally the classroom was empty, Professor Snape allowed a weary and dejected sigh to escape him. It was the most emotion he'd ever seen out of the Slytherin Head of House, and he knew then that he was not talking to his professor but to Uncle Severus. He slumped down into his chair, black bangs falling forward.

"I don't understand, Professor. I helped Ha--Potter with the brewing process myself. Why was his potion weak?" Could he have tampered with it during the maturation process?

"No, Potter's potion was sufficient. Yours on the other hand..." Now that sharp glare was back and Draco felt its full sting. "I have taught you better than to purposefully fail a potion."

He swallowed, although his tongue felt like sandpaper. He couldn't bear the thought of Harry hating him, even at the cost of his grades. He'd never pass Granger at this point.

"You've realized your _crush_ on Potter." He said the word as if it disgusted him.

His bright blush was answer enough, though Professor Snape didn't need one. He remembered his mentor's earlier comment about "pigtail pulling" and stumbled back. He had known all this time, before Draco himself had even realized it. Then, with dawning horror, he gasped, "You made Harry and I partners on purpose. You wanted us to drink Hate Potions so that we would stay apart."

Snape straightened his back, nodding. "Very good, Draco. Yes, it may have seemed harsh, but I was trying to save you. A relationship with Potter will not end well for you."

Thick, black rage bubbled up in his throat. "What gives you the right? How dare you--you...! You don't know that! I chose him!" How dare he put his big beak nose into Draco's personal affairs. "I know my father wouldn't approve, but there's no reason for us to remain enemies."

"I'm afraid you'll have little choice in the matter."

Draco felt himself bristle like a hissing cat. Harry was the one thing he had chosen for himself, his one independent action, his one freedom. There was no way he was going to let even his family keep him from being free. "Stay out of this, Uncle Severus."

Instead of responding in anger, Snape only looked sad. "I see so much of myself in you, Draco." Then the moment passed, and his cold Potions professor returned. "This rebellious phase of yours will not last. I am trying to save you now, before you get in too deep. But I can see now how my interference will only encourage you more. You'll see soon." He pulled the stack of parchment towards himself, a clear dismissal.

 

* * *

 

When Draco woke up the next day, he could already feel the effects of the potion wear off. He felt lighter, and that obsessive need to know everything about Harry had dimmed. In the Great Hall, there was still a definite pall over the Fourth Years. It had been nearly empty during dinner last night, thanks to the unfortunate victims of Snape's class preferring to not eat near their Potions partners.

His breakfast was interrupted by a paper crane flapping its way towards his head which it collided with. It fell on top of his mash, the spell wearing off until it was simply paper. He remembered sending a certain paper bird towards Harry last year, and when he looked up, he could see Harry looking at him. His heart skipped a beat. Even though the potion had appeared to have very little effect on Harry, he still worried that maybe they would grow stronger over night. He had only had his theories on what a lack of Ptolemy would do. Eagerly, he unfolded the paper, wondering crazily if it were a love letter. Of course, it wouldn't be, and he really had no right to be disappointed when he opened it and saw _meet me in the clock tower after third period._

He glanced up to find Harry still watching him. When he realized that the boy was merely waiting for a response, he nodded. Satisfied, Harry turned back around, and as always, he felt empty without that gaze on him.

Waiting through Transfiguration and History of Magic had been torture. Several times he dreamed of hexing both Professor McGonagall and Professor Binns for their incessant prattling on. He couldn't repeat anything that they had said, if asked. The entire time, his eyes were on the clock, and his mind was in the clock tower. When Professor Binns finally dismissed the class, Draco was the first one out of his seat. He ran straight through the old ghost and out the door before he could even finish his sentence.

By the time he had arrived at the top of the clock tower, he was panting and his hair was disheveled. Hastily, he finger-combed his hair and straightened his robes while trying to even out his breathing. With a sting of disappointment, it appeared that Harry wasn't there yet. Below the hanging wooden bridges and the walkways, he could hear the muffled noise of students milling about far below, but not over the loud ticking of the giant gears. He walked around them to the glass face of the clock, peering through the frosted glass to the black specks running about the courtyard. Some students were having a snowball fight, he realized with a stab of envy. He remembered one time he had seen Harry having a snowball fight with the Weasleys. The twins had been the undisputed winners.

Footsteps alerted him to the arrival of another, and he looked up to see Harry stepping up to him. "I didn't expect you to get here before me."

"I was a bit eager." His cheeks colored at the admission. "After Snape's class, I...I was wondering if you would ever want to see me again."

At the mention of that still too raw memory, Harry turned away. Honestly, he'd be surprised if the boy could ever meet his eyes again after exposing his insecurities like that. In comparison, Draco had gotten off unbruised. "It's not exactly as if you said anything untrue, but you don't seem to hate me. So there might be a chance."

The words pulled a hope up his throat and he struggled to shove it back down.

"We get on pretty well, don't you think?" Harry was bashfully fiddling with his robes, staring somewhere between the wooden slats beneath them.

"Yeah," Draco answered dumbly, but to be fair, he was having a hard time breathing right now. Was Harry about to ask him what he thought he was?

"And I'd like to keep it that way, but, um, well, you see..."

Draco did not, in fact, see, but he waited for Harry to buck up that classic Gryffindor courage to finish his sentence.

"Ron and Hermione are like family to me, and well, I can't be friends with someone who treats them badly."

Wait, what? This was going in the complete opposite direction. Had his fears that morning been founded? "I haven't done anything. I swear!" Did that stupid Weasel come crying to Harry about some untrue misdeed of his? Or maybe that stupid Muggleborn witch. Were they trying to turn Harry against him? He didn't care if it were Snape, Weasley, or even the Minister of Magic himself, he wouldn't let anyone take Harry from him, not when he just found him.

Now Harry had deigned to look up at him. "But you did. In the past. You've treated all of us horribly, and called my friends names. I can forgive you for being such a tosser to me, but not to my friends."

Why was he doing this now? Couldn't he just wait until after he'd gotten Harry to fall in love with him too? "I'm sorry for the way I acted towards them. Honestly, I was only mean to them because that made you angrier. I promise, I won't bully them anymore. I'll try to get the Slytherins to back off too, if they've done something." He hadn't heard about any nasty pranks on any Gryffindors. He couldn't stop the nasty gossip behind closed doors, but he could at least try to stop any public teasing.

Harry beamed. Whew, crisis averted. "I was so afraid you wouldn't be willing to apologize, no matter how much you suddenly seemed to like me." But then his smile fell and so did Draco's. "But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"Do you want me to write a letter to all of Gryffindor or something?" It'd be embarrassing, but he would do it.

"No. I know you've been generally nasty to just about everyone, but I've narrowed it down to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid."

"That's not fair. They'll never accept any of apology of mine."

But Harry just shook his head again. "That's the deal. You apologize to them, _and mean it_ , then they've agreed to accept you."

"Oh, and you just expect us all to go singing around the campfire together then, do you? Maybe we'll go skip through the meadows, holding hands."

Harry didn't seem to appreciate his sarcasm. "You have until the end of the year."

He stepped forward, holding himself back from grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking this infuriating boy. "You're giving me an ultimatum. That doesn't seem like a very friendly thing to do."

"I'm sorry, but I have to. This was going to come up at some point, regardless. Honestly, I'm surprised it took this long. Given our history, I think it's generous."

"Generous!" He laughed bitterly. In truth, Draco's time constraints were much smaller. The Yule Ball was only a little over a week away.

"That's my final word on this matter, Draco. I won't see you again until all three of them have given me the okay." And before Draco could argue further, Harry turned and left.

He stood there, the ticking of the clock sounding like a death knell in his head. Was it just him or was it getting faster?

He couldn't believe his fate would rest in Weasley's, Granger's, and that oaf Hagrid's hands.

 

* * *

 

He spent a good amount of time pacing in the clock tower, swinging back and forth like a pendulum between anger at Harry and his friends for manipulating him like this and despair at his short amount of time. Eventually, the despair won and drove him to the library. He maniacally flipped through Potions books, searching for some sort of elixir to induce forgiveness or to sway someone's mind in his direction. The closest he could come to was the Felix Felicis potion, but it was so incredibly difficult to brew and the ingredients were rare. There was no way he could brew one in time. He slammed another book closed, and received yet another angry "Shh!" from Madam Pince. Well, she could go stuff it. He didn't even bother to put the books back, just stormed off in a fury.  
  
Admittedly, his first day had been wasted panicking. A good night's rest had helped to settle his nerves, but he could still feel the press of time on his back. At times like this, he would go to Snape for advice or write his parents, but those options were not on the table. He had gone back to the library, this time looking for spells that might help. The only one that would really do the trick was a good _Imperio_ , but there was no way he could simultaneously cast it on three people, not to mention the moment he dropped it, they would go run and tell Harry. No, the only way for this to work, they had to truly accept his apology.

"I'm royally fucked," Draco groaned into his folded arms on top of the open tome. Maybe he could find something in the Restricted Section, but there was no way for him as a fourth year to gain permission, and sneaking in would have been impossible.

"And why is that, Draco?"

To his utter dismay, he looked up to find none other than Pansy Parkinson. The girl had started to fawn over him a little too enthusiastically this year. He had liked the attention last year, but now she was just annoying. He could respect her skills as a queen bee, but he did not want her. "Because you just walked in."

Instead of getting upset, she just laughed. "Nice one. What is it really? Maybe I can help?"

He highly doubted that. Her skills were in burning down bridges, not building them. She might have been useful in making Potter jealous, but that would only hurt his cause right now. "No, thanks. It's outside your area of expertise."

Pansy scrunched up her nose in a sympathetic quirk. "Ah, it's boy stuff, isn't it? I think I saw Blaise earlier. Want me to grab him?"

That was an even worse idea. Blaise would see this weakness and exploit it. No, he couldn't receive any help from Slytherins on this matter. Maybe he could find some new Hufflepuff, and ask them for advice on a very vague and very hypothetical situation. They were all about feelings, right?

Then an idea came to him. A brilliant plan, if he did say so himself. His hand darted out to grab Pansy's wrist before she could leave to go find the statuesque boy. "Actually, Pansy, there is something that you could help me with."

"Of course, Draco, anything."

 

* * *

 

They waited on the sixth floor, a relatively empty floor, so there would be less of an audience. He didn't want to start rumors, just target one witch in particular. They had purposefully blocked the entrance to the seventh floor from the Grand Staircase with some Garroting Gas. Now any Gryffindors wishing to reach their tower had to take a detour through the sixth floor.

They stood in the entranceway to the Room of Rewards. No one cared to go into the trophy room, and so their hiding spot was perfect. He just had to wait for-

Aha! Granger entered the corridor with Weasley in tow. The two were fast friends again. In fact, Draco would even venture to guess that their friendship had only gotten stronger. Had Professor Snape foreseen such a consequence? Was that his plan all along? To test everyone's relationships with each other? It certainly had been for him.

Pansy blocked their way, a wicked sneer on her face. "What's this, Granger? Dumped Potter for the Weasel, have you? Or are you all in some gross threesome together?"

Granger stuck her tongue out in disgust while Weasley only turned a bright red. That better have been at the thought of Granger and not Potter.

"Get out of our way, Parkinson," Granger demanded coolly.

Pansy laughed. She was really into playing the villain a little too well. Although he supposed this wasn't too out of the ordinary for her. "I don't have to take orders from a Mudblood like you."

This time, Weasley stepped forwards, wand pointing right at Pansy's upturned nose. "Don't call her that. Now move before I make you."

Still, Pansy wasn't scared. "What are you going to do? Make yourself eat slugs again?"

_"Locomotor!"_

With a flick of his wand, Pansy was sent hurtling to the side and out of the way. The motion was not fast, and so no real injury was done to her, but she flew to her feet in a rage. She pointed her wand at Hermione and shouted _"Densaugeo!"_

Granger stepped back as if hit with a soft blow. Suddenly, her two front teeth, already rather large, began to grow until she resembled a beaver, and then kept growing. She cried out, hiding her face in shame, and her friend ran to her. That was his cue.

"Pansy!" He barked, striding in between the two. "Stop this instant."

"But Draco..." This time, he didn't think her reluctant whine was faked.

In his best imitation of his father, he snarled, "I thought I said to leave Harry and his friends alone."

She hung her head demurely, but not without a pleasured shiver wracking her body. He resisted the urge to vomit. "You're right. Sorry, Draco." She left cowed, and to the Gryffindors, no longer a threat.

He turned towards them, putting on his best sympathetic look. "I'm sorry about Pansy. I've ordered all the Slytherins to leave you guys alone, for Harry. Here, _Reducio._ " Flicking his wand in a V shape, his Shrinking Charm hit Granger's teeth, reducing them to a normal size. Better than the original.

"Thanks," Weasley grit out as though it physically pained him.

Granger, for her part, only looked at him shrewdly in an unnerving manner like an animal looking at him with human eyes. "This doesn't count, Malfoy."

He snarled. He knew this was a lost cause. No matter what he did, these pig-headed Gryffindors were never going to accept him. Only with a Herculean effort did he simply stomp away instead of returning Granger's teeth to their engorged size. He'd find some way to win back Harry, and when he did, he would get his revenge.

 

* * *

 

Only ten more days left. He could swear that his hair was thinning, and if he went bald from the stress he was going to give every single Gryffindor boils for the rest of their lives. The worst thing about it all was that he couldn't take out his frustrations on anyone, or it would defeat the entire purpose. He debated on whether Harry Potter was really worth all of this, but all he had to do was see Harry laugh or remember the way he looked on a broom, and his anger would die down. He hated to admit it, but that boy had him wrapped around his little finger.

Whenever his father wanted to kiss up to some politician he hated, he would send them expensive gifts. So he sent in a mail order, and with a couple extra galleons thrown in to expedite the process. Then all he had to do was watch the owls fly in, dropping their surprise parcels in front of Weasley and Granger. The two of them looked at each other in surprise before opening their packages. For Weasley, he had sent a box of Honeyduke's most expensive candies. For Granger, a Checking Box, a magical device that would correct any errors written down. They were banned for testing, but there was no such ban on homework. Attached to each package was a card, expressing his regret over past transgressions and a hope to get along in the future.

Instead of cheering his name, Granger swatted Weasley's hand as it reached inside for the candy, and then she looked him dead in the eye from across the Great Hall and snapped the device in half, little purple sparks of magic jumping into the air before dying. He almost threw his plate of egg salad sandwiches in Crabbe's face in anger.

 

* * *

 

Eight days. He was running out of ideas, and more importantly, time. Perhaps he had been going about this the wrong way. He had assumed Weasley and Granger would be the easier targets, but perhaps the half-giant was the right route. He really didn't see how he could apologize to that numpty with a straight face.

The great oaf hadn't treated him any differently in class, and Draco began to wonder if he even knew about the ultimatum. He tried to be on his best behavior, but with Harry standing only a few feet away, purposefully ignoring his pointed looks, his frustration only mounted.

Looking at the unicorns, he snorted at his unintentional pun. For a place called the Forbidden Forrest, they certainly did seem to be in there a lot. Pansy and the other girls had squealed at the sight of the majestic creatures, and the silver adults had happily let all of the girls stroke their silky manes. The creatures were such pure white that they made the snow around them seem a murky grey in comparison. All Draco could think of was that one time he had seen that...creature sucking the blood of a dead unicorn.

"Malfoy." He looked up to find none other than Hagrid standing over him like the Whomping Willow. "Aren't yeh gonna come see the unicorns?"

Blinking, he realized that he had been standing away from the rest of the class. "I highly doubt they want to be near me."

"The adults, sure, but the foals are friendly ter boys." Before Draco could argue, a great big hand on his back was pushing him forward to where the other boys were mingling amongst golden baby unicorns. When that hand finally retreated, he stood rooted to the spot. The other boys fell silent and stared at him. The nearest foal, a little bit larger than the other ones blinked at him with large, solid black eyes that made him feel like he was looking into a starless night sky. It's golden color was already fading into the silver that it would achieve in adulthood, so it was a pale gold that reminded him a bit of his father's hair. And just like his father, it snorted and then turned to the side to nuzzle Longbottom.

He knew that would happen, even if his wand core was unicorn hair. Unicorns were rumored to only prefer the company of the pure-hearted, especially women. No surprise that they seemed to love Harry, even the adults, but someone like him-

Something warm and wet brushed his arm, and he looked up from the snow to see the pale gold foal nuzzling his arm. His heart leapt into his throat, and his eyes burned. Blinking the minor pain away, he tentatively reached up his mitten-covered hand before settling it on the area just above the muzzle. Its nostrils flared, hot steam rising in the cold air, but it didn't attack or leave. So slowly, he stroked its long face, watching the tail in the back flick around happily.

"Good job, Malfoy," Hagrid praised him, clapping his large hands together.

He let out a choked laugh. "You're not so bad, are you?" The words were gentle, huffed under his cold breath. The foal gave a snort like an answering laugh, and he smiled. He had to admit, after that incident with the hippogriff, he'd been a little scared of the assorted creatures that Hagrid showed them, especially the Blast-Ended Skrewts, but this was nice. "I'm going to name you Draco Jr."

Behind the foal, he heard a snicker. He peered around the upright ears to see Harry wide-eyed as if he had been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar. He quickly turned his back to Draco, but it was too late. So maybe Harry wasn't as indifferent towards him as he wanted to appear.

After the lesson, he held back a little, waiting for his fellow students to leave before he approached the-- he shuddered to admit it-- professor. Hagrid was busy setting a bucket of seed in the chicken pen by his hut, but when he noticed his company, he stopped to regard him.

"I wanted to thank you," Draco started with more courage than he felt. "For that lesson. I really enjoyed it."

Hagrid smiled at him, his beard pulling up with the movement. "Yeh're welcome, Mr. Malfoy. Everyone loves the unicorns."

He nodded. The conversation had already died. He'd been hoping to working his way up to it, but... "I understand that the hippogriff last year was important to you."

"Aye. Buckbeak was somethin' special."

Was he seriously about to cry over a stupid hippogriff? "Right, well, I heard that it had managed to escape execution, so no hard feelings."

Hagrid sat down on a large stump. "Yeh don't need ter apologize ter me, Malfoy. Yeh're just a little kid who hasn't even grown up ter the man he's supposed ter be yet. What kind of adult would I be if I held a grudge against a fourth year student?"

Draco swallowed and tried hard not to think about Professor Snape. "You're not angry at me? I tried to get your pet monster killed."

"So yeh admit it."

He blanched.

Hagrid only laughed kindly. "You could use some more work on yer apologies, Malfoy, but no, I'm not mad at yeh. Don't mean I like yeh none, either. I do like Harry, though, and he likes yeh. So I'm going to give yeh a little advice. I'm not one ter promote stereotypin', but if there's one thing Gryffindors value more than bravery, it's honesty. Yeh got ter be straightforward with them, or they won't believe anythin' yeh do."

"If Harry's so precious to you, then why are you helping the evil Slytherin?"

"Yeh wanna know why? Because Barnaby let yeh touch him." It took him a minute to realize he was talking about Draco Jr. "And unicorns don't let evil people touch 'em."

 

* * *

 

Acting on Hagrid's advice was much harder than receiving it. Weasley and Granger would not be so understanding, and it was his job to make them. It took him a whole day to gather up the courage to face them head-on. He wanted so badly to find more roundabout and clever ways, maybe invent some kind of friendship potion to get these people to like him. But Hagrid had been right. Gryffindors were too stupid to figure it out through subtle means. He managed to corner the trio after Potions, all but dragging them to a more secluded part of the dungeon corridor. Not many students lingered in the dungeons, as they were rather chilly during the winter. If he was going to do this, he'd rather it be without an audience.

"I want to apologize," he told them.

"Oh?" Granger folded her arms across her chest and cocked her hip as if to say "give it your best shot."

"Yes to all of you, but especially to you, Granger. I was particularly nasty towards you."

Her sassy stance relaxed a bit. "Why?"

Of course she wouldn't make this easy. "I will admit to the largest culprit being my upbringing. I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but I hadn't encountered anyone who thought highly of...Muggleborns before coming to Hogwarts. I did what I thought my father would approve of." It physically pained him to admit this. His stomach was so twisted in knots he didn't think he'd have room for dinner. "But the real reason is...I was jealous."

Weasley's eyes grew comically large and his mouth hung open like a dunderhead. "You? Rich little pure-blood? Why would you be jealous of us?"

Merlin's beard, they were really going to make him work for it. And he thought Slytherins were cruel. Maybe he should have fed himself some Veritaserum to make it easier.

"You three...You're such great friends, and whenever you are all together, you glow like the sun, and I guess I just wanted to feel that too." He wanted to die from the mortification his younger self had forced him into. He wished he had a time turner so he could go back and beat that little eleven year old to a pulp.

"Draco..." Harry was staring at him as if he had suddenly transformed into a mountain lion. It soothed his aching pride a bit.

"And I suppose you didn't like that Harry had chosen us over you," Granger said with that annoyingly all-knowing look she had perfected over the years. Sometimes she was just too smart for her own good.

Begrudgingly, he nodded. They all knew why he was here.

In his chagrin, he had been purposefully looking at one of the sconces on the stone walls, so he didn't have time to prepare himself for Weasley's sharp jab into his ribs.

"What the hell was that for, Weasel?"

"Bloody hell, it really is him." Weasley turned his gaping gob to Harry then. "Mate, what did you do to get him like this? He's practically decent."

Harry just shrugged nonchalantly, but his small grin betrayed him.

"I never thought I'd live to see this day. Well, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones so long as he stops being a prat."

Harry mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "fat chance," but for his health, Draco thought it best to ignore that. Instead, he turned his gaze to Granger.

She wasn't smiling. "Do you really mean everything you've said?"

"Yes." He wouldn't let her reject this.

"And you swear that you will never betray us, never treat us like you did before?"

"Yes, I swear." Did she want him to get down on one knee?

"Would you make an Unbreakable Vow swearing to it?"

Weasley gasped, looking at his friend in horror. Harry, on the other hand, just looked confused. He took a deep breath and then forced himself to say "yes." He held out his hand for her to take. He supposed since Harry was clearly oblivious, Ron would have to be the one to cast the spell. Knowing his luck, he'd get Draco killed somehow.

Granger took his hand and shook it once, before letting it go. His hand hung out in front of him dumbly.

"I'm not going to force you to make an Unbreakable Vow. I just wanted to test your conviction. Still," she whipped out her wand and shoved it just under his chin so that it poked the soft skin there uncomfortably. "If you ever break his heart, you'll wish it had been the Vow that killed you." He suddenly remembered that this was the same girl who had punched him in the nose last year. He didn't doubt her. Finding him sufficiently threatened, she returned her wand to her robe pocket and smiled politely at him. "Draco Malfoy, you have my blessing."

The relief did little to soothe the fearful pace his heart was beating.

"Blimey, Hermione. It's not like we're giving him away for marriage."

Harry blushed, and Hermione smiled at her friends with more warmth than she had towards him. "Of course not." The unspoken "yet" hung in the air.

"Your friends are terrifyingly protective of you, Harry." His cold sweat was already drying.

Harry beamed proudly. "Of course. What else did you expect from Gryffindors?"

 

* * *

 

Draco wouldn't say he skipped down the halls, but there might have been a bounce in his step and a whistle on his lips. As stressful as his test had been, the rewards were more than worth it. In the end, it had turned out to be largely beneficial towards his plans. With Granger's and Weasley's opposition out of the way, it would make courting Harry just that much easier. Of course, Harry himself was the biggest problem. He seemed to be willfully obtuse about dating and relationships in general. He wondered if Delacour's Veela charm would even work on him. It hadn't worked on Diggory, according to rumor. And the Yule Ball was in just a few days.

"You seem to be strangely excited about the Yule Ball," Harry teased lightly, clutching the strap of his book bag.

"Of course not, I'm not a girl." He turned up his nose, before gazing down it at Harry. "But you will keep your promise, won't you?"

"What promise?" Of course he didn't remember.

"About having our own private ball. After the public has had their fill of you, it's my turn."

"Wait, you were serious about that?" Ugh, this boy.

"Potter, rarely am I ever not serious."

"That's not true. You're always joking around with me."

"And I mean every word that I say."

Harry's smile didn't falter. "Wow, you really don't like my hair, do you?"

"I honestly don't know how I can be any clearer." But Draco found himself smiling too. "Speaking of the Ball, please tell me you've found someone by now." Say no, say no, say no.

"Yes. Parvati Patil. Ron's taking her sister."

Dammit. "Into twins, eh?"

At least he got to see Harry blush. "N-no, it's not like that. They were kind of the only ones available. What about you?"

"Well, the only person I wanted is now taken, so I'm going stag."

"Really?" They slowed down as they came to the Grand Staircase where they would have to part ways. "I thought you had to have a date, because of your parents."

"They won't really care if I go alone. It just goes to show that I'm too good for everyone else." He smirked, to show Harry that he was only joking.

Harry chuckled. "Of course. Then who was the person who _was_ good enough for you?"

He stopped in the doorway, pivoting on his foot and crashing his hand into the stone archway just beside Harry's head, so that he had him all but pinned to the wall. He leaned in, letting the full force of his hot stare swallow Harry's vision so that he couldn't look away. "I think you know," he whispered in a husky tone. He was so close, he could see his reflection in Harry's wide green eyes.

And then he pushed away from him, and walked down the steps towards his Arithmancy class. Let's see Harry try to ignore that.

 

* * *

 

 Professor Flitwick had really outdone himself with the decorations. The Great Hall had been turned into a winter wonderland, with icicles hanging from the vaulted ceiling, and snow dancing softly down, but disappearing before it could reach anyone's heads. It wouldn't do for the dance floor to get snowed in. In the back corner was a white flecked Christmas tree reaching all the way to the ceiling, glistening fairies and glowing cherubs flying around it. To break all of the white, long strings of holly were draped from the walls to the very center of the ceiling where a large bouquet of mistletoe hung. The floor looked as if they were walking on the frozen lake, but luckily retained none of its slippery qualities.

Behind the long banquet table the teachers and staff from all the schools stood to welcome the steady flow of students. Draco watched the couples file in, slowly filling up the area around the dance floor. Granger, to everyone's surprise, looked absolutely amazing, her hair managed into smooth curls that tumbled over her bare collar bone and ended at the top of her fuschia gown. And with an accessory like Viktor Krum, she was the envy of every girl in the room. Weasley, in comparison, looked like a grumpy old hag that had lost her way from the retirement home, he glowered the most at Granger, and Draco locked that tasty tidbit away for future use. And yes, there was Finch-Fletchley strolling arm-in-arm with a rather mean looking Durmstrang student. He turned to point it out to Harry, before remembering that he wasn't there.

Pansy walked in on Zabini's arm, and the two of them looked as if they had just walked out of a fashion magazine. He knew for a fact that their clothes were designer, and the latest fashion. Of course, what was the latest fashion compared to an original?

Draco's dress robes were a deep black with silver stitching, with a dark green shoulder cape, and corded ropes that were enchanted to look and hiss like snakes that tied his cape to him and hung down his back. The robemaker had assured him that they wouldn't bite anyone. He wondered if Harry would be able to speak with them. His waistcoat was an emerald green (the same color as Harry's eyes, he'd made sure) and the silver buttons were engraved with a snake curled in a circle, eating its own tail. His hair had been slicked back at an angle so that the right half still hung tantalizingly over his eyes, giving him a bit of a mysterious air. He'd spent days perfecting his look.

Then Harry entered. He wore classic, but handsome dressrobes in white tie. The cut was a little off, Draco would have to have a word with Harry's tailor, but overall he made quite the dashing figure. His hair was still a mess though, and that, not the satiny black lapels or the starch white wing collar on his pleated shirt, was what made Draco's insides melt. He looked like he had just hopped off a broom. The jingling mess of orange and purples next to him flashed her teeth at everyone in a large smile. At least she appreciated the gift she had undeservedly received.

Draco stood back with everyone and watched as the Champions began their opening dance. Diggory held Chang's delicate hands gently as he expertly guided her in circles across the room. Krum, on the other hand, moved in bold, masculine strides, picking Granger up by her waist with ease during the glissando. Delacour glided across the floor as if she were ice skating, dragging her not untalented partner behind her, the poor sod. And then there was Harry, looking like a baby amongst these seventeen year olds. He struggled to keep up, and more often than not, Patil was the one leading. At one time he swore he saw him step on the poor girl's foot. He had to give her some credit for not breaking their waltz, if it could even be called that. No wonder Harry didn't want to come to the ball. He had all the grace of a hippopotamus. Draco kept receiving looks from the students around him when his laughter got too loud.

But then Dumbledore led McGonagall onto the floor, soon followed by the other teachers, sans Snape who had eagerly taken the job to patrol the hallways for any students who decided to wander from the party. Draco had already set up his defenses for that.

Soon, everyone was on the floor, laughing and dancing. With the dull ache of loneliness, Draco stood against the walls with the other losers with no dates. Correction, he himself was not a loser. In fact, he was too cool to have a date. And really, he would have his date, as soon as he had made a good show of presenting himself at the ball so that no one would miss his absence. The waltz ended, and then Professor Dumbeldore introduced the special entertainment for that evening: the Weird Sisters. The all-male rock band had sat at the top of the charts for the past few years, and they went straight into their most popular song, "Do the Hippogriff." He'd heard it on the radio once but his father preferred he listen to more "sophisticated" music. Jazz had been their compromise.

"Draco, you silly bean, why are you playing the wallflower?" Pansy skipped out of the tight throng of dancing students, dragging a smirking Blaise behind her. "Come dance with us."

"Really, I'd rather not sail that sea, thank you."

Pansy only rolled her eyes. "How could you deny the world your amazing dancing skills? Please, oh benevolent lord, enlighten us mere mortals with your art of movement." Behind her, Blaise chortled.

"Well, if you put it like that." He allowed her to drag him to the edge of the dance floor. With each of them in hand, she swung her arms around and made them skip in a circle like they were toddlers out of a fairytale. It was completely undignified and graceless, that he found himself snorting with laughter at Blaise's stoic face as he was tugged back and forth between the two of them. He ended up having so much fun, he'd completely forgotten about Harry, until Pansy finally had to call for a break.

By then, the dance floor had thinned, most of the students tired of dancing. Blaise had run off to fetch drinks, while Pansy sat at one of the round white tables, fanning her flushed face. His eyes scanned the crowd for Harry, finding him sitting at a table on the opposite side of the hall, with a slouching Weasley and two very bored looking twins. He supposed one dance had been too much for the poor boy to handle. Fixing his hair, he sauntered over, letting Harry get an eyeful of his long legs ending in well-polished wingtipped oxfords.

"Having fun, Harry?" He smirked, eyes falling over the others before remaining on their target.

"Hello, Draco. I'm surprised I haven't seen you until now." Harry sat up.

"Well, you're in luck, because now I've come to whisk you away." He bowed with a cheeky smile, holding out his hand for Harry to take, as if he were asking him to dance.

Oh, how he lived for the moments when Harry flushed like that. He looked adorably confused, as if he weren't sure whether Draco was offering his hand or a licorice wand.

"Remember your promise."

With a determined look, he took Draco's hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet.

Weasley looked up in panic. "Where are you going, mate? Don't leave me."

He pulled Harry just a fraction closer to him. "But you're not alone, Weasley. You have these two lovely ladies to keep you company." That should win over the Patil twins so they wouldn't try to find them. He didn't wait long enough for any more objections.

He led Harry to that same courtyard where he had been regrettably transformed into a ferret. He chose not to think about that part, but about the good bit before it, when Harry had turned his hurt glare onto him. He hoped to get a much different reaction out of Harry this time.

He had spent a good while researching privacy wards to keep others away from the courtyard while he had set up the decorations. The tree that he had been in before now sparkled with glowing orbs of red and green thanks to a _Baubillious_ charm. Dangling from the tree were strings of golden tinsel interspersed with mistletoe. In fact, every archway surrounding the courtyard sported a sprig. He had tried to be thorough. The snow fell down around them, natural this time, and they sparkled from the light of his tree. Underneath it, he had conjured a cozy loveseat with an end table with a travel-sized record player on it.

"You did all this?" Harry's breath came out in little puffy clouds, before drifting up into the blank night sky.

"Yup," he nodded proudly. "What's a ball without decorations?"

"But outside? Bit cold, don'cha think?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Really, Harry." A quick wave of his wand and a Warming Charm fell over the both of them.

The hands which had previously been rubbing his arms fell to his sides. "Right. I've got to remember that one."

"No need. I'll always be there to charm you."

Harry nearly tripped over his own feet, but a quick hand from Draco steadied him. "S-sorry. Slippery out here, I guess."

Draco didn't buy it, but it might just be wishful thinking that it had been his words that had tripped him. "You really are quite clumsy. You should send Ms. Patil an apology gift later for squashing all of her toes."

"Sod off, Malfoy." But Harry was still smiling.

"Would you like for me to teach you?"

"You know how to dance?"

Really, there was no need to be so incredulous. "I learned to waltz before I learned to ride a broom."

Harry threw back his head with laughter, and Draco's heart surged with the knowledge that for once, it had been he who put it there. "Of course, I forgot who I was talking to for a second there. Fine, teach me, young master." He flopped his arms about his sides.

"It's rather more simple than people make it out to be. You move in a box." He gestured for Harry to stand beside him and watch closely. "You stick your left leg out first. Then you bring your right foot in a side-step, and then bring your feet together." He slid forward across the snow before angling to the side. "Then you do the same, but going backwards. Step back with your left, side-step with your right, and then close." He continued doing the motion until Harry mirrored his movements perfectly.

"And then your partner matches your steps. Like so." He swung himself in front of Harry, grabbing his hand with his left and his waist with his right. Harry tensed, but he didn't give him enough time to completely freeze up before he forced their bodies into motion. He stepped forwards, and on instinct, Harry stepped backwards. And when he slid to the right, Harry inevitably followed. "See?"

Harry looked down at their feet, taking his words literally, and that's when he stumbled, nearly dragging the both of them to the ground. "Sorry," he mumbled, his hand clutching onto Draco's with almost painful strength.

"You're so graceful up in the sky, how can you be so bad on the ground?" The words were light and held no barbs.

"Don't use your feet much on a broom."

Contradictorily, Harry's problem seemed to arise when he concentrated. "And do you think very much when you fly a broom?"

"No," Harry admitted with a flush. "I move mostly on instinct."

"Then do so now." He continued their waltz, and Harry instantly followed the steps. When his eyes began to drift down to his feet, Draco's fingers left his waist long enough to tilt up his chin. "Don't look at your feet. Focus on me." And Harry did, his mouth slowly drifting open. But he could only hold his gaze for a minute before he was looking towards his right, the tips of his ears tinged pink despite the Warming Charm.

"Ah, but what is dancing without music?" With a flick of his wand, the record player spring to life, a bouncing flute leading the introduction before a swell of strings set them back into motion. The tempo was a little faster than they had been going, but Harry kept up easily. "Look at that, you're a natural."

Harry laughed again accompanied by the chime of bells. "I have a great teacher."

"True. Ready to step it up a bit, then?"

Harry never failed to answer to a challenge. "Bring it on."

"Let's step out of the box then." The steps were still the same, really, but instead of moving in a box formation, they twirled in cricles, their robes flaring out behind them. The snakes on Draco's back hissed with dizziness. Still, so long as Harry kept his eyes on Draco's, his feet moved where they were supposed to. Draco even grew bold enough to lift Harry up like Krum had done to Granger during a glissando. The boy released a delighted shriek before landing back on the ground laughing. And then Draco did it again, just because he couldn't get enough of the way his hands felt on Harry's waist. And then he was laughing just because Harry was, and he pulled their bodies closer so that they were practically laughing into each other's mouths.

Then the playful bounce of the song drifted down into a sensually slow rhythm, like ripples in a pond. Their twirling slowed down to match tempo, until they were moving in large circles. Still, Draco didn't let their bodies pull apart, even moving his arm to the small of Harry's back to keep him there. With the lower volume, he could hear their heavy breathing now and he nearly giggled from how lusty they both sounded.

And there he was, Draco Malfoy, dancing with Harry Potter, and the boy hadn't taken his eyes off him since he had told him to. He pulled their joined hands in between their chests, and leaned his forehead against Harry's so that their noses brushed and he could pinpoint every reflected glint of light in his glasses. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

Harry's slack lips pulled up into a dazzling smile. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

And then Draco thought, 'Oh, I'm in love with him.' And this newfound epiphany gave him enough courage to lean down and press his lips to Harry's.

He heard fireworks going off in his head, and a silent scream of glee lodged itself in his throat. Every nerve in his lips sprung to life at the feel of Harry's lips against his own. He wanted to cry, he was so happy.

And then, like a bucket of cold water, Harry pushed against his chest, sending him sprawling into the snow. His lips cried out at the loss of contact, but not as much as his heart did. He looked up to find Harry covering his mouth with both hands, eyes wide in horror as if he had accidentally drunk poison. And before Draco could say his name or even stand up from where he was unceremoniously sitting on the cold ground, Harry turned and ran away.

He sat in cold silence, snow piling up around him. In a sudden flurry of motion, he swatted all the snow away. "Shit." He turned onto his knees and pounded his fist on the ground, but his eyes burned. "Dammit. Fuck." He curled forward, smacking his fists down and down again, forehead resting on the cool ground. Why did he have to get greedy and mess everything up? Harry had made it more than clear that he was straight and only thought of Draco as a friend, but he had gotten caught up in his own spell. How could he have ever thought Harry would see him, a Malfoy, in that way? He had been beyond lucky that he could have been accepted as a friend. He shouldn't have pushed his luck. And now...

Now Draco was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Draco and Harry dance to is the Cinderella Symphonic Suite: So This Is Love, which you can listen to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAGf9RqJSf0


	5. Dancing Mice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His feet touched the ground gently, but he ruffled his hair in frustration. Argh, why did Draco have to kiss him? And why did he have to like it?"

Harry walked out of Professor Moody's office with a tired sigh. The ex-Auror had been bugging him about his plans for the Second Task, and while he appreciated his teacher's concern and support, how was he supposed to find time to research how to breathe underwater with all of his school work. The teachers had been lax around the Yule Ball so that the students could enjoy it, but now they were in full preparation mode for their O.W.L.s. Harry didn't see what the big fuss was about. They weren't going to take them until the end of next year. Hermione had listed of enough reasons to fill her own book, but Harry tended to tune out when she got into her lecture mode. And she had been going into that a lot lately. Apparently, his friendship wasn't the only one to be ruined by the Yule Ball.

Hermione and Ron barely spoke to each other, which tended to leave him uncomfortably in the middle. They wouldn't even sit near each other during meals, and frankly, it was getting a little ridiculous. Blimey, was this how Hermione had felt like when he and Ron had been fighting before the First Task?

He hadn't seen Draco since that night. At first, it had been Harry who had avoided him, the memory still too fresh in his mind, but now Draco couldn't seem to stand to be in the same room as him. He'd even been hit by a Leg-Locking Curse to keep from chasing after him. He guessed he really had ruined this strange new thing before it'd even really begun. But he just...

After about two weeks, Hermione finally confronted him about it. "Harry, what's going on with you and Malfoy?"

The question had taken him so completely by surprise that he dropped his entire collection of chocolate frog cards. Granted, they weren't nearly as numerous as Ron's collection, but he hadn't exactly been planning to play 52 Pickup. "Nothing. Nothing's going on." It's not like he could tell them that Malfoy had kissed him. What if they thought he was gay? They'd never want to be his friend ever again.

She gave him a withering look as she crouched down to help him pick up his cards. "I know Ron and I have been stuck in our own nasty business, but it would take a blind man not to notice Malfoy taking off down the hall the minute he spots you."

He swallowed. "It's nothing, really, just a...misunderstanding." He picked up his card of Uric the Oddball and placed it in his little box.  
Hermione handed him the last card, Helga Hufflepuff, before standing up. "If he's hurt you, after I just threatened-"

"No, no, he didn't hurt me." Had to put a stop to her righteous fury before she decided to punch Draco again. "If anything, I hurt him." Every night he went to sleep, he saw Draco's face, like Harry had just gutted him. He didn't mean to hurt him, but, really, what did he expect, just suddenly kissing a bloke like that? Anyone would have had the same reaction, right?

"I'm sure he deserved it."

"Hermione! I thought we agreed to be nice to him?"

"I said I accepted him, not that I was going to be nice to him." She sighed at his pout. "Fine, yes, I guess I'm still expecting him to mess this all up. I'm still sure it's all his fault somehow, but for the sake of our alliance, I will extend him the common courtesy of innocent before proven guilty."

He smiled. "That's all I ask."

 

* * *

 

For the first time in Harry's life, flying wasn't fun. He'd always had a great time whenever he rode a broom, even counting all the times he injured himself, but flying all alone around the Quidditch Pitch just left him unsatisfied. There was something missing... Or well, someone. Trust Draco to ruin his favorite hobby.

He wanted his friend back, but he knew that was an illusion he could never regain. Even now, just thinking about him, Harry's lips tingled with the memory. Maybe Draco had put some kind of charm or potion on his lips so that he would still feel them weeks after? Argh, why did he have to go and ruin it? They could have been perfectly happy as mere friends, but no, Draco just had to go and kiss him. His cheeks grew hot as he pushed his broom down towards the ground. No point in flying now.

He wished he could talk to someone about this, but at the same time, he was deathly afraid of anyone finding out. The people he trusted the most were the one's he was most afraid of leaving him. He supposed he might talk to someone like Madam Pomfrey; she could keep a secret, and if there was some medical way to cure this then all the better, but the thought about talking about his...ugh, feelings...with an adult just made him want to stick his head in the mud. 

His feet touched the ground gently, but he ruffled his hair in frustration. Argh, why did Draco have to kiss him? And why did he have to like it?

 

* * *

 

He didn't wake up with a start, as he did with most of his nightmares. Probably because it hadn't really become a nightmare until he woke up. His eyes fluttered open dreamily, and his lips pulled into a lazy grin before he caught himself. No, no, this was nothing to be happy about. He had dreamt about that night, dancing with Draco and laughing.

Dream Draco had looked much more debonaire and suave than his memories, and this time, when he kissed him, Harry had thrown his arms around his neck and kissed back.

Draco held him tighter, sending a thrill up his gut and into his heart. No one had ever held him like that before. He felt ticklish and calm all at the same time. And then their lips had parted, and Draco confessed his undying love, proclaimed Harry to be number one in his heart, and that he would devote the rest of his life to making him happy. 

In an almost-panic, he snatched up his toiletries and practically ran to the bathrooms. His heart didn't stop pounding until he took a startlingly cold shower. It never really returned to a normal tempo, either, but at least he could breath correctly. It shocked him, how much he wanted that dream to be the real memory. But no matter how tempting it all seemed, he couldn't give in. Even if Ron were to accept him, Mrs. Weasley sure wouldn't want some pouf influencing her son. His friends were his refuge, and if they turned him away, he would have nowhere else to go. That thought more than the cold shower knocked away those silly fantasies. 

When he returned to his dormitory, he found Ron just waking up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh, heya, Harry. Already took a shower?"

He nodded, and set about getting ready for the day.

"What's wrong?" He crawled out of bed, limbs still a little clumsy, and stood close enough to Harry to whisper, "Was it another nightmare?" 

He shook his head. He hadn't dreamt about Voldemort in a while.

Then, a freckled arm was slung around his neck, and he found the redhead leaning in too close to whisper in not nearly as quiet a tone as before, "Ooh, was it a _naughty_ dream then?" 

His face grew hot, and he quickly shoved the other boy off of him. "What? No! Ron, don't be gay."

Instead of laughing and maybe light-heartedly taking the mickey out of him, Ron's eyes grew wide, and his gaze flicked back to the other beds in the dorm. "Don't say that. You're being insensitive."

"Don't worry about it, Ron." The curtain pulled back to reveal Seamus. "I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Ron countered. 

Then Dean's head popped out from behind his curtains. "What are we used to?"

"Oh, Harry's just being a bit of an arse, as normal."

"Hey!" He regretted trying to defend himself, because then his shout woke up everyone else, and then everyone in the dormitory was looking at him as if he were some Slytherin that had snuck in to plant some dung bombs or something. He didn't understand. This wasn't how they were supposed to react. Why was he the bad guy? In a panic, he dashed out, blurting "going down for breakfast," but it just came out as a sort of jumbled shout.

He felt too nervous to see them again, so he grabbed a couple of muffins off a platter before leaving the Great Hall. He made his way to the clock tower, hiding in the narrow stairwell that led up into the giant clockwork. He sat on one of the steps, letting the shadows hide him. He found that he didn't actually have the appetite for his muffins so he set them down on the step next to him.

Draco had said something once about Seamus and Dean dating, but had that been true? They never kissed or held hands, that Harry saw. But Ron had never told him about it, and he didn't like Harry saying that word like that, so maybe... Argh, this was all just making his head hurt and his stomach clench. He needed answers, and there was only one person he could trust to give them to him without many questions.

 

* * *

 

 

Hagrid's hut always made Harry feel both simultaneously like he was out camping and that he had finally returned home. Of course, he and his two best friends had spent plenty of time there, just chatting with the half-giant, so in a way, it was his home within his home.

When he walked in, Hagrid welcomed him with surprised cheer. From the too small napkin tucked into his collar and the crumbs in his beard, he recognized that he had interrupted his friend's breakfast. The professor had even had his mug half-way up to his face when Harry had walked in. "How come you're not eating in the Great Hall?"

"I could ask yeh the same thin'." He set his mug down, and Harry recognized it as the one he had given him first year. He had charmed it to keep its contents warm.

'And yet you can't remember to cast a simple Warming Charm for yourself?' a voice that sounded too much like Draco said in his mind. "Fair point." He sat down on the offered stool.

"But jus' so yeh know, it takes too much time walkin' up to the castle an' back, and I have mornin' classes now." He finally noticed all of the unseemly crumbs in his beard and hastily wiped them away. "What can I do yeh for, Harry?"

Now that the time had come, Harry found his throat closed up. "I wanted to, er, talk to you about something." Hagrid nodded easily, his face open and ready. He opened his mouth but found that the words just wouldn't come. How was he supposed to ask his arguably first friend from the Wizarding World something that might make him hate him?  
Hagrid had the uncanny ability to sense when a conversation needed to be over tea or over firewhiskey. As Harry was underage, he had settled for some butterbeer. The thick, sweet liquid helped to settle his nerves a little, as did the warm glow of the fireplace. Harry couldn't remember a time when Hagrid didn't have a cheery fire going.

"So, 'Arry, what is it yeh been wantin' ter talk to me about?" the half-giant grabbed a kettle to pour himself some more tea, before settling back in his cosy armchair. He always liked the way Hagrid said his name.

Nervously, he wiped some foam from his lip on the back of his sleeve. "What do you...or I guess, the Wizarding World think of...gay people?" He wished one of those Blast-Ended Skrewts would swallow him whole right about now.

"Oh." Hagrid set his mug down on the table. "I suppose yeh're gettin' about that age." He stood up, nervously twiddling his fingers. "I don' think I'm the best person ter be havin' this conversation with. Reckon you should talk ter Remus."

"Professor Lupin?" He'd have to get out of the habit of calling him that. Remus hadn't been a professor there in a long time.

"Yeah. You can use my fireplace ter talk ter him." He shuffled over to the mantle where a small ceramic jar held the glittering green powder. Harry followed him. He'd never been the one to Fire-Call someone before. Luckily, Hagrid seemed to sense his unease and made the call himself, throwing a handful of the powder into the flames calling out clearly "Grimmauld Place." The flames roared to life, turning green, before settling back down.

Hagrid turned back to him. "Now just go on and stick yer head in. I'm sure he's heard the call. I'll just...er, be outside, if yeh need me."

Harry felt a bit nervous about sticking his head into a fire, but he'd traveled by Floo before, and the flames had given off no heat. So he knelt on the ground, and slowly stuck his head into the flames. 

The sensation was unlike any other he'd experienced. His skin tingled with the magic, and his vision held an eerie green glow, thanks to still being inside the Floo Network. But instead of looking at ashes, he was looking at a rather gloomy looking sitting room. The sofa and armchairs were rather drab and darkly colored, and any outside light was blocked by thick, heavy black curtains. Before he could observe more of the room, Remus Lupin walked in front of him, and crouched down so that they were on more equal footing.

"Harry? To what do I owe this pleasure?" Remus seemed happily surprised. He looked exactly as Harry had last seen him at Hogwarts. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes spoke of a weariness that came with surviving a war, but the mirthful upturn of his lips hinted at the Marauder lying within. When Harry still didn't answer, the smile fell, and the wrinkles increased in worry. "Harry, is there something wrong? Should I go get Sirius?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Wait, Sirius is there?"

Remus froze for a second, before relaxing into his usual serene manner. "Yes, we've decided to live together."

"Is that safe? What about the Ministry? They're still looking for him." Harry had no idea where Sirius was at the moment. He had always guessed he was living in a cave somewhere with Buckbeak, but of course the two of them could not survive that way.

"We're both completely safe. There are enchantments and wards on the house. You need not fear for your godfather. Now, what was it you came to speak with me about?"

Now that the time had come, Harry wanted to just lie, but if he could buck up the courage to ask Hagrid, then he could ask Remus. His old professor had always been kind and wise, he would not judge Harry for his curiosity. "Well, I was just asking Hagrid about...what wizards and witches think about...gay people, and he said I should talk to you."

His eyes widened a fraction, before settling down into what Harry recognized to be his lecture face. "Ah. From what I understand, Muggles have a rather negative view on homosexual relationships, do they not? They view it as something unnatural."

 _'Freak!'_ Harry nodded nervously. He could remember uncle Vernon sneering at news reports of rumors of gay celebrities, remember Dudley and his friends calling him a ponce or a pouf and jeering at him.

"The Wizarding World has no such prejudice. There were many times in the past when pure-blood families didn't have any other means of producing heirs, and so they resorted to magical remedies. Better for two pure-blooded wizards to be together than to dirty the family line. Over time, the idea of two men or two women marrying was not so uncommon. It is an everyday part of life here."

"There are ways for two men to have babies?"

Remus' smile felt a bit like he was laughing at him. "Yes, there are ancient rituals and potions. There's also a magical adoption ceremony. Magic can do many things."

Harry agreed. So that's why no one seemed to mind Seamus and Dean going out, why Ron had acted that way. So no one would have been upset if they saw Draco kissing him. 'Well, except for the fact that he's Draco Malfoy and I'm Harry Potter.' He felt glad he'd talked to Remus. He felt lighter somehow. "But I don't understand why Hagrid sent me to talk with you. Not that I mind talking with you."

Remus took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if Sirius wants me to tell you this, but...Sirius and I are seeing each other now."

Harry nearly stumbled out of the fireplace in shock. "Really? Is that why the two of you are living together? How long has this been going on?"

Remus held a hand up to stop the onslaught of his questions. "It'd be more accurate to say we are picking up where we left off before he had been sentenced to Azkaban. We had started dating when we were still attending Hogwarts. But if I might ask a question, Harry, how do you feel about this?"

To his surprise, Harry didn't even have to think about it. "You two are happy together, right? Then I'm glad. Sirius--both of you deserve it."

Now the smile Remus wore held none of the cool understanding of his teaching persona, but of the warm love his father had in those photographs he looked at. "You're a good kid, Harry. So very much like your mother. Your mother had been raised in a Muggle family too. She had also had the same...doubts about these types of relationships."

"My mother?" Everyone had always spoken of his mother as if she were a saint, a benevolent angel descended from heaven. This was the closest thing to a smirch on her otherwise clean record in his eyes. 

"It put a strain on our friendship when she found out. But in the end, she chose to accept us. I always loved her for that. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up for your beliefs when everyone denies them, but a great deal more to admit when you are wrong."

They paused, letting the words and the memories wash over them. "Remus, were you always... did you always know you..."

"...preferred the company of men?" Remus finished with a teasing grin. "No. I had had a crush on a girl in my year, but it was but a flickering candle for what I feel for Sirius. Now Sirius on the other hand... He had always had a bit of a crush on your father. He practically worshipped him. Even when Lily had garnered his attention, it still took me a great deal of effort to make him turn my way."

"Really?" Sirius had spoken highly of his father, but so had everyone else. Did he still harbor those feelings? Even when his father had married his mother?

"There's no need to answer, but if I may, what has brought on this sudden curiosity?"

The muscles in his jaw and neck seized. "I just found out that a couple of my classmates were gay, and it came as a bit of a shock."

"I see." And Harry feared that he did. "Was there anything else I could help you with?"

"No. Thanks, Pro--Remus. I really should get going now. Tell Sirius I said hi."

"Of course. Goodbye, Harry."

He pulled out of the fire, sitting up on his heels. So being gay really was okay here. He felt relieved and burdened all at the same time. What happened wasn't weird or gross and it didn't make Harry a freak for thinking so much about it. But now did that mean that Harry himself was gay? If he were being completely honest with himself, he might have enjoyed the kiss, a bit. But did that mean he liked Draco, or just liked being kissed in general?

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud squealing of a door, and Hagrid stuck his head in from the outside. "Are yeh finished-Oh, yeh are. Classes are 'bout ter start, Harry. Yeh should really get goin'."

Harry nodded and dutifully walked out of the hut. He had absolutely no intention of going to Charms class. There was no way he could even focus with everything on his mind right then, and he needed to sort through that mess. But he wasn't about to tell Hagrid that. He may have thought of him as a friend, but he was still a professor.

So, while he did run up to the castle, he most certainly didn't pop by the Gryffindor Common Room for his books, nor did he go to Transfigurations. He could only hope that McGonagall would buy his excuse of being sick. The Owlery seemed like a good place to ditch. He could see Hedwig, and no one would be mailing a letter during class. Or so he had thought.

Underneath the fluttering of wings and quiet hooting, he heard the murmur of a single voice. With a gasp, he ducked out of the archway and behind the stone wall. If a teacher caught him here... But when he peeked around the stone, he saw none other than Draco Malfoy sitting on a window ledge in a faux casual manner, though Harry could see the tension in his shoulders and in his fingers that clutched a letter. Next to him an eagle owl groomed its feathers. It had two curious black feathers that stood at a harsh angle on top of its head so that it always looked like it was angry. It didn't take Harry two guesses to pin it as the Malfoy family owl. He could just imagine it calling him a filthy half-blood.

Draco let out a heavy sigh. Harry had never seen him look so down before. His hair was unusually greasy and unkempt, and in between his eyebrows rested a seemingly permanent wrinkle. Must have been bad news. His hand fell onto his lap, still clutching the letter, and he leaned his head back against the stone wall with yet another sigh. As he looked up, Harry jumped back behind the wall, heart in his throat. Had he been spotted?

But there was no cry of outrage, no curious calls of his name, only silence, so he dared to peek back around, remembering to keep most of his body hidden. Draco was still reclining in the window, looking ever so much like a Renaissance painting of a forlorn poet, the sunlight pouring in from the window illuminating him from behind so that his blond hair had a golden outline. Suddenly, his listless eyes sparked with attention. The heavy flapping of wings heralded the arrival of a snowy white owl that landed on Draco's knee. Hedwig? What was she doing with Draco? He supposed they had technically flown together once, so that might have made the bird accept him, but why would she willingly go to him? He tried not to feel jealous.

Draco gave a soft smile and stroked the feathers just under her chin with a single finger. She preened under the attention, lifting her beak just slightly to allow him better access. "You won't leave me too, will you?"

The owl didn't answer.

Spying from across the Owlery, Harry was frozen in shock. He'd never seen Draco look like this before, so...sad. 'Heartbroken,' Harry corrected himself. 'I broke his heart.' It was downright nasty of him to feel a little proud to have had that much sway on another person, but he smothered that part of himself down with a dark blanket. All that was left was feeling sorry for the poor guy, and no small amount of regret. He missed the cocky, teasing Draco he'd come to like.

With a mischievous quirk of his lips, he let just the tip of his wand poke through the archway, muttering the spell under his breath. In a swirl of colorless sparkles, the bones of the various mice and voles the owls had eaten and regurgitated floated up before reforming into their original skeleton. Soon he had three mice skeletons standing on their hind legs and tapdancing, the tiny clicking of their little bone feet the only sound now. He spared a glance towards Draco, and found him staring with eyes as wide as saucers, as if he had just seen a ghost. Well, no, that analogy didn't work very well at Hogwarts. As if he had just seen Crabbe and Goyle reading their textbooks. Even the owls were watching in hushed wonder, though likely because they thought some prey had suddenly appeared in their den. 

As funny as Draco's surprised face was, that was not his intent. So with another swish of his wand, the mice skeletons formed a little pyramid. Still no reaction. Hmm. Maybe... A flick of his wrist and then the mice had picked up the discarded leg bones of their fallen brothers and were sword fighting with them. They were quite good at it too, parrying and blocking with expert timing, just narrowly avoiding death...again. Then one of the mice stabbed the other in between the ribs, which made quite the show of dying dramatically. The last mouse shook its sword in fury, charging the mouse that still had its sword stuck in the other. It couldn't recover quick enough to block the sword that decapitated it. The victor climbed on top of the bones of its enemies and raised its sword triumphantly, before a swooping beak plucked it from its grasp, and the following talon knocked it to pieces. One of the owls had decided to eat the enchanted bones again.

A bark of laughter startled Harry just as much as it appeared to have startled its source. Draco still looked wide-eyed in shock but chortles escaped his mouth involuntarily, until he gave in and put his whole body into that laughter. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and a hand hovered in front of his mouth, not quite covering it politely. 

Harry stood frozen to the spot, transfixed by yet another face Draco had never shown him. The laughter seemed to blow away all of his Malfoyish features until he was left with only boyish charm that made Harry's cheeks burn. He was kind of cute when he laughed. A real laugh, with no biting edge to it.

When his mirth died down, a cold January breeze pushed through the window and Draco's body. He shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around him. With a smirk, Harry waved his wand, and an unnatural warmth settled into the boy's clothes and skin. Draco's shoulders relaxed for a second before they tensed up again, his eyes darting across the owlery. 

Heart in his throat, Harry quickly ran off. Only when he got down to the Stone Circle did he allow himself to stop and turn back around. He hadn't been followed. Good. With a strange feeling giggling up Harry's chest, he dashed back to the castle, feeling as if he had just drunk an Elixir to Induce Euphoria.

 

* * *

 

He managed to corral Hermione and Ron after lunch into a storage closet. It was a bit cramped, and the irony of coming out to his friends in a closet was not lost on him, but he didn't want anyone else to overhear, and he had to get this done before this strange burst of courage ran out. They didn't argue with him, instead following him with rather serious faces.

When he closed the door behind him, shrouding them in darkness save for the light peaking underneath the door, he cast a small _Lumos_ , letting the little ball of light detach from the tip of his wand to hover in the air between the three of them.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron whispered, even hunching forwards a little bit. "Is it You-Know-Who?"

Oh, so that's why they had gone with him so easily. He shook his head. "No. I just wanted to tell you two something in private." They looked at him eagerly. Well, nothing ventured... "I think I'm gay."

They blinked at him for a long moment before turning slightly to share a heavy look with each other. Hermione said carefully, "And was it Malfoy that made you realize this?"

Well, he didn't normally dance all alone with his mates, or well, anyone for that matter. "Yeah--wait, how did you know?" 

She shot him a deadpan look. "I was on your date with you, remember?"

"That wasn't a date."

"Please, Harry, you all but held hands. You may not have thought of it as a date, but Malfoy certainly did."

Had they both really been so obvious? "Ok, so you might be right. I guess I might have fancied him from the beginning." He scratched the back of his neck, but his elbow jarred against the too close wall.

"Did you ever have feelings for me?" Ron asked to Harry's horror.

"No, I swear to god, Ron, I've never looked at you that way."

Instead of sighing with relief and slapping him on the back to reaffirm their manliness, Ron frowned. "Why not?"

"What?"

"I'm a good-looking bloke, aren't I? What has Malfoy got that I don't? Aside from money, that is. Is that it?"

"Oh my god, Ron, I'm not some kind of gold digger." He hid his face in his hands in mortification. How did this conversation take this strange turn?

"Hermione, help me out here. I've got to have some good qualities. You told me all of them when that dreadful potion wore off."

Now Hermione looked a bit embarrassed, though she was doing a horrible job of hiding her snickering.

Harry decided that the best course of action was to just move on from Ron's strange insecurity. He peeked out from between his fingers. "You guys really don't care that I'm gay?"

Now he received that back slap, a little harder than he had been expecting. That small pain was soothed by Hermione's arms enveloping him in a warm embrace. "Of course not, Harry. We're your best friends. We love you."

"We kind of guessed already, but we'll always be there for you, mate." And then Ron's larger arms had encased both he and Hermione, and Harry wanted to cry.

That was how Filch found them when he opened the door in search of a pail that was behind Hermione's feet. They ran away giggling. Rita Skeeter would have a field day at the sight of them. They made it to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, an arguably better place to have their conversation than a closet. On the other hand, that meant Myrtle was watching them from atop the sinks.

"So what happened between the two of you then?" Ron asked, leaning against a stall, warily watching the ghost from the corner of his eye. "Something must have happened that night of the ball. Malfoy took you away somewhere, and now it's like he can't stand the sight of you."

Harry sincerely hoped that wasn't true. "Well, he, er, kissed me."

Hermione gasped, hands covering her mouth in astonishment, eyelashes fluttering prettily. "He didn't! And that's when you realized how you felt?"

"No, actually, I sort of pushed him and then ran away."

He didn't expect both of them to bellow out his name angrily. "How could you do that?" "No wonder he hates your guts now."

"Hey, he's the one who just kissed me out of nowhere, and I still thought... Well, I grew up thinking that being gay was wrong. It's still a fairly new concept to me."

She put a hand on his arm. "I understand. Your relatives are absolutely vile, so I wouldn't put homophobia past them. Even I was a bit shocked by how open-minded the Wizarding World was."

Ron just shook his head. "I don't even get why that's something for Muggles to fuss over. I mean, who cares, really? I've got a couple of cousins that married another witch."

Hermione just continued on. "So how are you going to win him back?"

Harry blinked owlishly. "I dunno. I figured I'd just hit him with a Body-Bind Curse so he couldn't run away and explain things to him."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have a romantic bone in your body. No wonder Malfoy's had to do all the hard work."

Ron eyed her. "You almost sound sorry for him."

"With Harry as his crush, how could I not be?"

"Honestly, Hermione, I don't think Draco would appreciate some big gesture. He's wanted to be discreet with our relationship so far, and I don't want to put him on the spot like that."

She paused. "That's surprisingly considerate of you, Harry." Really, what did she think of him? "Still, he's had to make all of the advances so far, hasn't he? I don't think he'd mind a private gesture, don't you?"

Okay, she might have had a point. Draco made that amazing wintery dance floor for just the two of them. He had to have spent hours building it before the ball. "Any ideas?"

He shuddered at the eager glint in her eyes.


	6. That Old Black Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's when it hit him. He was inside the Shrieking Shack. Maybe blindly following a mysterious Snitch hadn't been such a smart idea."

For the past hour, a golden Snitch had been flitting annoyingly around Draco's head. Every time he reached out to catch it, it flew just out of his fingers. It even dodged all of his spells to blast it to pieces. Somebody was taunting him about his poor record as a Seeker, and when he found out who it was, he'd force them to drink one of Longbottom's potions.

"Draco, there's a Snitch flying 'round your head."

"Well spotted, Pansy. You have an ugly pug nose. Look, we're all making observations today!"

Her face scrunched up in acute pain before she stormed off. He immediately felt like an arse. She didn't deserve his frustrations, but with all the stress pushing down on him, this Snitch just might be the straw that broke the proverbial centaur's back. Avoiding Harry was suppose to soothe his wounds, but only seemed to dig into them more. Somehow, in their short time together, Harry had carved a place at his side and his absence couldn't be ignored. He'd ruined any chances of mere friendship, but maybe even that wouldn't have satisfied him. 

The Snitch bumped into his forehead lightly, and he swatted it away irritably. Still, it persisted, knocking into him like a fly trying to escape through a window. He nearly flipped the table in front of him. No doubt his face was purpling in near apoplexy. "What do you want?" he spat, leaping to his feet. 

Surprisingly, the Snitch didn't headbutt him again, but instead floated towards the exit of the Slytherin Dungeons. Was it finally going to leave him alone? He relaxed a little in his button-tufted armchair, glad to have that magical buzzing out of his ears. He could still hear it ringing in his-

"Ow!" It had rammed into him with none of the gentle force from before. Rubbing his forehead, which would no doubt be sporting a bruise now, he looked up to find the Snitch swirling in an impatient figure eight in front of the door again. Did it...? "Do you want me to follow you?"

It bobbed happily, flying rapidly towards him. He flinched, expecting another attack, but it only circled his head before darting back towards the door. Warily, he made his way to the door. When he received no attacks, only the golden orb finally hovering in one spot, he pushed open the door. Sure enough, the Snitch darted forwards into the torchlit passage way that led to the rest of the castle. Apparently, he hesitated for too long, because he received another sharp rap to the noggin. "Ouch. Bloody Snitch. If I get a bump on my head from this, I'm going to grind you to dust." Not wanting any more pain, he quickly followed it.

Now that he was following, the Snitch had increased the pace to a light run. He dashed down the corridors past his schoolmates, past Filch, even past the Bloody Baron (although it was more like he went through the ghost than past him). He ignored people's startled and curious shouts, instead focused on following the golden dot just in front of him. Maybe he should have Summoned his broom, if he was going to be chasing a Snitch like this.

The Snitch led him up to the ground floor and out onto the grounds. He shivered, realizing he had left his scarf back on his bed. A hastily cast Warming Charm helped to stave off the late January chill, but casting it while running had thrown off his wand motion, and so it wasn't nearly as strong as he normally casted it. Stupid Snitch. His sides were aching from the overexertion. Never had he run anywhere for this long. He was a bloody wizard, for Merlin's sake. When he caught that Snitch...

He skidded to a halt, nearly slipping and falling onto his backside from the slick snow. The Snitch had led him to the Whomping Willow. Was it trying to kill him? "Was your bludgeoning not powerful enough, stupid Snitch? Had to get something bigger?"

Of course, the Snitch could not answer, only hover between the two of them in irritation. It could knock him around all it wanted, there was no way he was going near that murderous tree. Already its long boughs stretched out menacingly, shaking the snow from its bare branches. 

However, instead of smacking into his head again, the Snitch dove towards the Whomping Willow. Its massive branches swung down, prepared to smash the tiny intruder to pieces, but the little golden gnat easily dodged, flitting about the crashing appendages with expert grace. Then, it punched a spot just at the base of the trunk, and the branches retreated, relaxing, until it resembled nothing more than a normal willow tree. Draco stood there in shock. He'd never seen the tree so docile before. What had that flying menace done?

When he still didn't move forward, the Snitch flew back towards him, circling around, until finally pushing his back until he stumbled forward. Fear lanced through him, but as he got within pummeling range, the tree didn't so much as sway in the breeze. Relaxing a bit, he began to walk under his own power, and the Snitch floated ahead again to lead the way. To his surprise, it led him to a secret tunnel hidden beneath the roots of the tree, just big enough for one person to crawl through. Right above the entrance was a rather large knot in the wood. That had been what the Snitch had hit. What a neat trick. Expectedly, the golden bauble flew down into the tunnel, and Draco prepared himself to dirty his robes. 

The inside of the tunnel was dark, but warmer with the chilly wind cut off. It smelled of damp and earth, a smell that reminded him of Herbology class. He lit the tip of his wand. It didn't illuminate the end, but at least he wouldn't trip over himself. The Snitch helpfully slowed its pace, always staying within wandlight. He felt grateful, not wanting to walk down the dark tunnel alone, even if there was only one possible direction to go. The walk didn't take too long. In the dark, the passage of time was unknowable, and only a quick Tempus Charm told him that he had been chasing the Snitch for almost an hour. No wonder he felt so tired.

The tunnel ended into a basement of some sorts, broken chairs stacked into a corner, a pile of rusty cauldrons, and a couple of straw brooms lying on the ground. Everything was covered in cobwebs as thick as a gossamer curtain, though he couldn't spot its creator. Wherever he was, no living being had stepped foot there in decades. The Snitch led him further in, past a larder, and toward a set of stairs that led to a trap door in the ceiling. When he pushed it open, he found himself in a barely lit, dusty hallway. The window at the end of the corridor had been boarded up, but a few stray beams of light filtered through, illuminating all of the dust particles floating in the air. Gross. He fully climbed out and into the hallway. The walls of the building groaned with age, and the howling wind outside whistled through the slats in the boarded up windows. This place was so creepy, it was probably haunted. 

That's when it hit him. He was inside the Shrieking Shack. Maybe blindly following a mysterious Snitch hadn't been such a smart idea. He shivered now. No Warming Charm could soothe him. Should he turn back around? But the very thing that had led him here was now blocking the exit. It didn't move from its spot, but Draco worried it might attack him again if he tried to run away. And what if whatever it had done to the Whomping Willow had worn off by the time he got back through?

With no other choice, he proceeded down the narrow corridor. Piles of wooden rubble were strewn about the dusty grey floor, as if some kind of beast had gone on a rampage in the house. He could only hope what had caused it no longer remained. Somewhere outside of the house, a bird screeched and flapped its wings. He nearly jumped out of his skin. When he got out of here, he was going to have his father demolish this place.

He turned the corner, and the warm golden glow of light poured into the hall from a doorway. Someone else was here. He could hear it too, the soft creak of footsteps. He wished he knew the spell that would let him peer through walls. Who was there? Should he call out? Were they friend or foe? Were they even human? There was only one way to find out. With more courage than he felt, he turned into the doorway.

Never would he have expected a cozy Christmas scene. The ceiling held a canopy of golden tinsel from which mistletoe hung at random sections. Magically conjured icicles hung down the walls, glittering in the golden light, which came mainly from tiny fairies that stared at their own reflection in the ice. In the corner of the room, next to an empty fireplace was an evergreen tree, littered with red and green orbs of light. Unlike the rest of the house, a perfectly intact, crimson loveseat was propped against the left wall, and next to it, on a small end table, was a portable record player. The scene looked eerily familiar, but the final puzzle piece didn't slide into place until he noticed Harry Potter standing in the middle of the room in a dark blue knitted jumper and corduroy trousers, watching him nervously.

"I tried to recreate it as best I could from memory," he spoke softly, staring at him from underneath his lashes. "I couldn't make it snow, however. Hermione said the magic was too temperamental, and it might flood the room."

He stepped inside the room, and found it surprisingly warm, considering the icicles. "Potter, what the hell is this?"

The other boy froze, muscles visibly tense, even under that thick jumper. His head hung, and for a moment, Draco thought he might not get an answer, and then, a tribute to his house, Harry looked him straight in the eye, shoulders squared. "It's an apology..." Then his bravery melted and his fingers began to tease the hem of his jumper. His ears, the only thing Draco could really see with how low his head had dipped, were beet red. "...and a confession."

Draco wanted to punch himself in the gut for how his heart skipped a beat. No matter how this looked, he couldn't let his hopes get up. It would only hurt that much more when Harry inevitably trampled all over them. "What for?"

Harry had no right to look so endearingly shy right now, peering up at him over the rim of his glasses that had slipped down his nose. "I'm sorry for running away, that night of the Yule Ball. The...the kiss had been so unexpected, and I might have freaked out a little." His body was hunching in on itself, angling away from him, and Draco had the manic urge to pin Harry to the wall and force him to face him, but the weight of his words pinned Draco in place far more effectively. "It took a while for people to convince me that k-kissing-" Draco's heart stuttered along with Harry's words "-between blokes was okay."

"Wait," Draco's voice sounded abnormally loud and he cringed. At least he didn't squeak like a pubescent teenager with how tight his throat felt. "That's why you ran away? Because you thought being gay was bad?"

Harry nodded, finally facing him, even if his chin tucked a little into his collar. "I understand that it's not an issue with wizards and witches, but in the Muggle world-"

"So you didn't run away because it was from me? From a Slytherin?" 

Now Harry lifted his hand to shoot him an incredulous look. "I thought we already went over this? I wouldn't have even considered being friends with you if that kind of stuff bothered me."

The relief was so palpable he foolishly wanted to cry. He had spent so long thinking Harry had been disgusted with him, had hated the kiss because it had come from a Malfoy's lips. But it had only been some sexuality crisis. Granted, he should have handled it better. He knew what kind of narrow-minded view Harry had come from. He should have warmed him up to the idea of it before trying to snog him, but he had gotten so caught up in the moment. Whatever grossly sentimental look was on his face, it soothed Harry's nerves, for no longer did he fidget and look bashfully at the ground. Now his emerald green eyes were focusing on him so intently, he felt as if they had cast a Full Body-Bind Curse on him. Maybe Harry had performed Wandless Magic?

"You're not going to run away from me again, are you?" Harry asked.

"How can I, when that bloody Snitch is blocking my path?" Wait a second. Draco kicked himself for not realizing it earlier. "That was your Snitch, wasn't it?"

Harry, as thick as always, nodded proudly. "Hermione enchanted it, but it was my idea. I thought you would enjoy chasing it."

He wanted to smack him upside the head for every time the Snitch had done the same to him. "You moron! It physically assaulted me and harassed me all the way here. And why the Shrieking Shack? Were you trying to scare me out of my wits?"

Harry blinked, taking a step back. "I...I wanted somewhere private. I don't know anything about privacy wards, and this was the only place I could be sure. Plus it's part of my gift. Now you know a secret way out of Hogwarts. I don't know if you'll ever need it, but..."

"Why in the bloody hell would I want to go to the Shrieking Shack? It's haunted!"

He didn't expect Harry to laugh. "No, it's not. Those rumors came from Remus. Although, that's what they wanted everyone to think."

"Remus?" What was he prattling on about?

"Oh, Professor Lupin. From last year, remember? I'm sure you found out that he was a werewolf. This is where he went to safely transform when he attended Hogwarts. The howling that everyone heard was from him, and Dumbledore wanted everyone to think it was haunted so that no one would wander in and get hurt."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Oh, right. I forget that it's not common knowledge. Remus Lupin was a friend of my father's." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's kind of a long story. Remind me to tell you some time."

Right. They were getting off topic. "So you very sneakily led me here, surprisingly not to off me, so you just wanted to say you were sorry and you want to still be friends?"

Harry smiled cryptically. "Not quite. I wanted to give you back the night I ruined for you." He walked over to the record player. "I couldn't find the song you played that night. It's kind of hard to search for a song without lyrics. But I thought I'd put my own spin on things." He set the needle down into the groove and set the record spinning. A bold wall of brass burst into the world, beginning a swinging number. This didn't seem like Harry's cup of tea. "Remus let me borrow it. He said it helped him to win over..." He blushed, letting his sentence die. Then he turned back to Draco, and held out his hand in a clear invitation.

And Draco was too weak willed to deny him. He took the hand, but this time, instead of positioning themselves for a waltz, Harry grabbed his other hand, swinging them back and forth boorishly. At his skeptical look, Harry laughed, "I want to show you how the rest of the world dances." The beat of the drums and the bopping of the brass set the rhythm, and then a deep voice crooned out. 

_That old black magic has me in its spell._  
_That old black magic that you weave so well._

Harry pistoned their arms back and forth like a train, hips swaying in an over-the-top manner to where they lost any sensuality and became comical. He looked like a buffoon, and worse yet, he was making Draco look like one too. "Come on, loosen up, Draco. This is supposed to be fun." He swung their arms so high that they both did a twirl under them, their hands still connected, so that they returned to their original position, but this time, their arms were crossed over the other. "You remember what fun was like, right?" His cheeks were rosy with merriment, making his eyes look even greener by comparison.

_Icy fingers up and down my spine._  
_Same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine._

"You still have no grace, Potter," but he was smiling, and he untwisted their arms, causing them to go into the twirl again in reverse. Then, just for the sake of one-upmanship, he spun Harry around underneath his arm, only letting one hand go. Harry laughed out of the spin, his now free hand grasping onto Draco's shoulder to steady himself. He liked it there, so he put his hand on Harry's waist. Just like before, it sent a jolt up his arm.

_The same old tingle that I feel inside._  
_And then that elevator starts its ride._

Giving in to Harry's lackadaisical choreography, he swung their joined hands up and down, causing their whole body to move with it. At one point, Harry had even crushed their chests together in a silly imitation of a tango. It felt a bit like when he was a little kid, dancing with his mother. The dance was not meant to look suave or to seduce, but merely an expression of their joy together. Except he'd never looked at his mother like this.

Then when the music reached a brassy peak, Harry bent him backwards, keeping him from falling only by their joined hands and an arm at his back. "What are you doing, Potter?"

"Dipping you."

"Well stop it." He pulled himself back up, and Harry allowed it, making sure this time he was the one leading. "I feel stupid."

Harry let him lead easily, still smiling. "I think it's good to feel stupid sometimes. Besides, I thought we agreed you would call me by my first name."

"Ok, Harry." And then, as payback for the dip, he picked Harry up by the waist and swung him around in a circle, just as he had done on Christmas night. Just like then, Harry shrieked with surprise and glee.

When he finally set him down, the boy was practically giggling, and Draco was panting lightly from the effort. "I love it when you do that," Harry gasped. "It feels like I'm flying." He looked like a kid that had just been tossed into the air by his father, but Draco supposed Harry wouldn't have ever experienced that feeling before. He remembered his earlier musings about what Harry's Animagus form might look like.

The song had begun to reach its end, the brass muting to a more subdued tone, and likewise, their dancing matched. Harry pulled their bodies closer, and their joined hands close to their chests, so they were more swaying in place while hugging than anything that could be called dancing.

_That old black magic called love._

Harry was watching him with eyes that sent flames right down into his core, and he wanted so badly to kiss him. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Instead, Harry murmured, "Merry Christmas, Draco."

"It's nearly February."

He hit him with a look that said he had missed the point, and Harry's lips crashed rather gently onto his. It was as chaste as their Yuletide kiss had been but Draco had never felt more on fire. Harry Potter was kissing _him_ , not the other way around. Harry liked him. He liked him. His mind was spinning with this thought, because never had he actually thought that Harry might love him back. 

Sadly, Harry took his lips away, and Draco wanted to chase after them. "You know, you're supposed to kiss back."

Oh, right. He had been so shocked he had just stood there, and now he felt like a fool for wasting this miraculous chance. "Sorry. I'm just so surprised you like me."

Harry chuckled. "Me too, but then again, not really. We get along rather well, don't we?"

Draco nodded dumbly. Maybe Harry had been right about feeling stupid, because he never wanted to feel anything else. And just because he could now, he kissed Harry, and let out a strangled gasp when he felt Harry's lips pressing back. He never wanted this moment to end. He'd have to look up some spell that would stop time so he could spend the rest of his life kissing Harry. They parted, both of them panting like they had just run a mile instead of stand there snogging. The song had ended some time ago, leaving only the scratch of the needle in the silence.

"This does feel kind of fated." Why was Harry talking instead of kissing him? The only reason he hadn't just covered his mouth with his own to shut him up was because he liked what he was saying. "I was kind of obsessed with you. Maybe I had always felt this way about you, and I just misinterpreted it as hate."

Draco hugged him tighter. He never wanted to let go, like a spoiled child with a new toy.

"Maybe that's why that potion didn't work on me," Harry continued his musing, and now Draco's arms tightened for a different reason. "Because I already knew what 'hating' you was like. And didn't Snape say something about the power of the potion having to be stronger than the power of the feelings they were supposed to counteract?"

"O-or maybe my potion was just brewed improperly."

Harry laughed. "You? I can't imagine you bungling a potion that badly."

Draco swallowed thickly. His eyes darted to the side, and that seemed to be enough of a clue for Harry to gasp.

"You didn't!"

"I didn't want you to hate me."

And then Harry's face melted into a moonstruck grin, eyelids heavy. It was worth it to put that look on his face. "You really do like me, huh? For how long?"

"I think I always have." And then he kissed him again.

 

* * *

 

"Draco, you look positively over the moon. It's disgusting." Blaise sneered over his cup of tea, milk, no sugar. "Has someone slipped you some love potion?"

"Sod off, Blaise." He tried very hard to focus on his honey-glazed ham instead of a certain bespectacled Gryffindor across the room. His mind seemed unable to focus on anything else. Now that the worry over whether their feelings were mutual or not was gone, all he wanted to do was snog the boy silly. He had gotten addicted to those kisses, and now he needed his fix. Maybe he could convince him to sneak off after last period for a snogging session? 

"Uh-oh. I think someone's got himself a girlfriend." Pansy said the words jestingly, but she looked like she was the one getting teased.

"Or boyfriend?" Blaise supplied with an unnervingly knowing look in his eye. Was he calculating what ways to use this new information to his downfall? No, there was absolutely no way these two could learn of his paramour. 

"Or maybe I'm just so happy that the Second Task is coming soon and I'll get to see Harry look like a fool in front of three schools."

"I thought you were trying to befriend him?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching him squirm." Of course, his mind drifted to a much different type of squirming. He quickly shoved a large piece of ham into his mouth. Maybe they should use the Shrieking Shack as their point of rendezvous? No one else seemed to know about it, and even if they did, who would brave the Whomping Willow just to spy on them?

After lunch, he found Harry walking with his friends, ever the inseparable trio. He'd see about that. "Potter, might I have a moment with you?"

Harry looked at him curiously. "There's no need to act like that, Draco. They already know."

His heart leapt into his throat. "You told them!" He thought there had been an unspoken agreement to keep their true relationship hidden, but maybe he should have spoken it. 

"Like I could ever hide anything from them. Besides, they're the ones who helped me with my apology."

Oh, right. He had said something about that. He turned a glare to Granger. "So I can thank you for that Snitch, then?"

She smiled coyly. "If you didn't avoid Harry, it wouldn't have been necessary."

He'd have to keep an eye on that witch. Harry might have convinced her to keep him under her good graces, but he had no doubt her wrath would be fiery should he ever fall out of them. At least she wouldn't oppose their relationship, unlike the Slytherins. He turned a condescending glare to Weasley. "And what part did you play? The fairies?"

"Actually, I'm the one who came up with the idea of using the Shrieking Shack."

"You couldn't have picked a more unromantic place."

Weasley had the decency to look shamed. "It was a private place. Besides, it worked, didn't it?"

Harry blushed, suddenly analyzing the knight statue to his left. A wicked grin split Draco's face, and the sight gave Weasley shivers. At least he could intimidate one of Harry's friends. "It did. So, Harry, might I have that word with you?"

"Anything you say to him, you can say to us," Weasley puffed out his chest. When would they get it through their thick skulls that Harry didn't need protection from him? Unless they were trying to save the Golden Boy's virtue or something.

Harry shrugged. "That's true. I'll just tell them later anyways."

"I had no idea your friends were so interested in the sweet nothings we whisper to each other."

Weasley looked sick, and Granger covered her mouth in scandal, while Harry blushed so brightly he practically glowed. "We do no such thing, Draco!"

"There's always a time to start."

"Fine, we get it," Granger tugged Weasley behind her by the collar. "We'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Don't be late to class, Harry."

While they walked away, he guided Harry by the arm into an alcove that gave some semblance of privacy. It would be too conspicuous if he and Harry were seen walking out of a closet or empty classroom together.

"I really will just tell them everything later," Harry said petulantly when they arrived.

"Doesn't mean I have to suffer the peanut gallery during our conversations. That being said, don't go blabbing about our relationship with all of Gryffindor Tower."

Harry frowned. "What, are you ashamed of me?"

He rolled his eyes. Typical Gryffindor to not consider the consequences of their union. Harry would have made a terrible politician. His celebrity status was wasted on him. "What do you think my father would do if he heard about this?" That seemed to scare him. "He'd likely pull me from Hogwarts just to keep me away from you. Probably send me to Durmstrang. If my Housemates find out, they'll overthrow me and I'll be ostracized." 

Harry snorted. "'Overthrow you'? What are you, King of the Slytherins?"

"I like to think of myself as Lord of the Slytherins, but yes. I've worked hard to obtain my power over my upperclassmen." His name had a lot to do with that, as did his fortune, but all of that blackmail hadn't been easy to obtain. He softened, daring to grab Harry's hand. "I'm not ashamed of you, Harry. How could I be, when you accomplish all these amazing feats? Bloody hell, you're a Triwizard Champion. Just... Just give me time to consolidate my power base, so that no one could try to split us up if they found out."

Harry's voice softened too. "Do you really think people would hate it so much if we were together?"

Draco had no idea about Harry's side of things, as sentimental and mushy the lot of them were, but Draco's side would label him a Blood Traitor. He was supposed to inherit the Malfoy name and marry some pure-blood, preferably a witch, and carry on the line. He couldn't see him spending the rest of his life with anyone else, but the boy in front of him. This was so far outside of his father's plans for him, he honestly had no idea how the man would react, but it wouldn't be good. "People don't like it when you act outside of their expectations. Just give me some time."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I'll tell Hermione and Ron to keep it quiet, though I don't think they would tell anyone anyway."

Draco relaxed with a sigh, dropping Harry's hand gently. He'd held it for a dangerously long time already. "On that note, how would you like to go on a date?"

Harry's eyelashes fluttered. "Now?"

How could one person be so cute? "Of course not. We can't skip class. I meant on the weekend before Valentine's. We could go to Hogsmeade together."

"What happened to keeping this a secret?"

"We'll be discreet about it. Don't worry, I have a plan. So?"

He gave Draco that devil-may-care grin that sent flutters into his stomach. "Let's do it." He should have guessed that Harry would have liked the challenge.

 

* * *

 

Valentine's weekend couldn't have arrived soon enough for Draco. He could barely sleep for anticipation of it, but knew that sleeping would only make it arrive quicker. His followers had teased him about his ill-concealed emotions, though Pansy still looked upset. If only for Harry's safety, he could never reveal their relationship. Pansy's wrath was more terrifying than Granger's. 

But now the time had arrived, and he paced nervously in the entrance courtyard. Many students were milling about, waiting for the carriages to take them to Hogsmeade. As always, Filch supervised, checking that each student had a signed permission slip to allow them to be set loose on the village. The majority of the students made up couples, holding hands or standing close together to combat the early February chill. The snow had begun to melt into slush, but the winds still bit down to the bone.

A touch on his arm made him jump, and he turned around to see Harry smiling apologetically for scaring him. "About time." He grabbed the boy and quickly walked around the castle wall into a hidden spot. Anyone could just walk by so he had to be quick. "We have to leave separately. Meet me by the Shrieking Shack." And then he darted off before Harry could get a word in edgewise. He had been right about the Shrieking Shack being an unromantic location, so no couples should wander upon them.

He handed Filch his permission slip and took a carriage with other Slytherins. They weren't part of his inner circle, so they wouldn't question him when he decided to go off on his own. He had even banished Crabbe and Goyle to a different carriage, though they seemed plenty happy on their own to go raid Honeydukes. As soon as the carriage stopped, he dashed out into the melting snow, not even gracing his riding partners with a farewell. It took significant willpower to keep himself from outright running. Wouldn't do to cause a scene.

Finally, he reached his destination and the sense of urgency settled down a bit. He didn't even have to wait long for Harry to show up. The pathway leading to the Shrieking Shack had more snow than the town did, as trampled by feet as the roads were. "Is this where our date's going to be?"

"Of course not, how dreadfully boring would that be? We're going to go into Hogsmeade, just like everybody else. Just not as ourselves." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry, to his credit, only flinched a little. With a complicated, swirling wave, he cast a glamor on the both of them. "There, now we look like different people." 

Harry, who now looked like a short, curly haired blond boy with freckles and brown eyes, gasped at him. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"No one. That's the point. This isn't like a Polyjuice Potion, where you change into another person. This is an illusion of my choosing."

"Of course you would choose to make yourself look like that."

Draco smirked. He had been unable to resist giving himself a bit more muscle than he actually had, with glistening olive skin, and black as night hair that was tied back in a messy bun, with a few loose strands that fell in front of his sultry black eyes. He had based the look off of a model he had seen in a fashion magazine that he had kept not for the fashion as he had let his father think.

"Do I at least look as good?" Harry sighed, the breath sending an errant curl up, before it fell back down over his forehead. A forehead that was, most importantly, sans scar.

"You look absolutely adorable."

Harry pouted. "I'm a guy. I don't want to look adorable."

"Too late." With a teasing grin, he strode off down the path to Hogsmeade, smiling wider when he heard Harry follow behind him. To all the world, they looked like two startlingly attractive Hufflepuffs. It would have been smarter to make themselves less eye-catching, but he didn't want to have to kiss an ugly face, and he couldn't bear the thought of looking unattractive in front of Harry, so there was really no other choice. The downside to such an illusion, however, was that it could be easily undone. He was relying on other people being too immersed in their own business to even recognize just another couple, if they even knew the counter-spell. 

Once Harry had caught up to him on the streets (he couldn't resist making his legs just that much longer to give him a significant height advantage over the boy), he swiftly grabbed the boy's hand to pull him flush against his side so that he could lean down and lay a peck on his cheek. Harry leapt back as if he had been burned. "What are you doing!"

"We're two boyfriends out on a date. What else would we be doing?" Even dating, he still loved to tease Harry.

"Draco, you're incorrigible." 

He slapped a hand on his mouth. "That's not my name, remember? I'm...I'm simply Tom today." Harry made a strange face at the name, but he didn't want to spend the majority of their day picking out names.

"In that case, my name will be James."

"Your father, Harry, that's not very-"

"My name's not Harry, remember? It's James. Besides, it's a fairly common name."

"Fine, alright then, James dearest, let's go have fun on our first date."

"Of course, Tom darling." Harry looped his arm in his and they strode boldly down the street. 

Draco's predictions were correct. No one so much as gave them a second glance. A trio of girls had eyed him before noticing his arm wrapped around Harry's with a defeated sigh. Even a few guys had made eyes at Harry, but one menacing look from him and they gave up. Maybe he should have made Harry ugly...

"Please tell me we're not going to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop?" Harry gagged. "Not only is that place tacky, but it's no doubt crowded right now."

"Please, Ha-James, I have more class than that."

Harry didn't question further, just snuggled a little closer as they leisurely strolled down the cobblestone path. They passed by Honeydukes and Spintwitches, the shops bursting to the brim with Hogwarts students. They'd visit those places later, if Harry wanted, though their stock would be running low. Madam Puddifoot's was so bursting with Valentine's atmosphere that actual flying cupids were buzzing around the shop's entrance, leaving behind a sickly trail of hearts. The place really was dreadfully tacky.

"People really don't care." Harry breathed in wonder beside him.

"Hmm?"

"No one even blinks an eye at two boys walking arm-in-arm."

"You still don't get it?"

"I do, it just surprises me, is all. Happily so."

"Muggles worry about the silliest things."

Harry frowned at his derisive tone, but didn't say anything. Good. He'd hate to get into (another) fight so early on in their relationship. As they strolled along, a group of boys were hurling wet clumps of snow at each other. Not ideal snow for making snowballs, but it could still be thrown. He noticed Draco staring at them so he asked if he'd like to join in.

"No thank you. I don't see how hurling frozen water at each other would be fun."

"Have you never been in a snowball fight before?"

"Not with other people," he answered before he could catch himself. What a lame thing to say.

"Well, the snow's nearly gone, but next winter, I'll set one up."

Draco smiled.

They walked past Love Lane and the tea shop. "Tom, where are we going? We're leaving the village."

"We won't leave it, technically, just getting off the streets." His purposefully vague comments were irritating Harry, but he just couldn't resist. Not many students bothered to venture past the shops, and he couldn't wait for the look on his face when he saw. The road continued, even when the buildings didn't, exchanging its cobblestones for frozen dirt. Pine trees lined the road, so that their destination was blocked from view when their path curved.

The sound came first, the low murmur of chatter and the crack and swish of metal on ice. The road took a sharp turn then, and the trees cleared to reveal a frozen pond upon which a handful of people were skating on. He spotted a family, helping their young daughter skate, a couple of young boys, and one older woman skating with an expertise of a professional. The pond was fairly large, about half the size of the village. A couple of benches and a gazebo were the only signs that the residents of Hogsmeade ever even knew about this place, otherwise, it still looked as wild and untamed as the day the village had been founded.

He watched Harry closely, sad he could not see the surprised gasp on his normal face. "Is that safe?"

"Don't worry. The pond is eternally frozen. No one knows why. Witches and wizards through the ages have studied and analyzed it for the cause. If you cut the ice and take it away from the pond, it will melt instantly, and the water holds no special properties. It's one of the Seven Wizarding Wonders."

"Like the seven wonders of the world?"

"You mean the Great Pyramid and stuff? No, these are Wizarding Wonders, things that even magic can't seem to explain."

"If it's so great, why haven't I heard of it before?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's just a frozen pond. Not much else to it." He took Harry's hand and led him to the edge of the pond, by a bench. With his wand, he pulled out a small object from his pocket and returned them to their original size. In the blink of an eye, he was holding two pairs of skates, one black and one white.

"I've never gone ice skating before," Harry said like a warning.

"There's a first time for everything. Don't worry, I'll teach you." He showed Harry how to put on the black skates, before guiding him out onto the ice. Harry's legs wobbled like a newborn foal's, and he clutched onto Draco's hands like a lifeline. He could get used to a dependent Harry. It felt nice to be the one better at something, for once.

"How are you even supposed to stand on the edge of a blade like this?" Harry's voice vibrated with trepidation.

"Balance. And besides, you won't fall over if you keep moving. So move your feet out like this, like you're pushing yourself forward." He made the motion with his feet in place.

Harry's feet moved back and forth in a straight line.

"No, no, push outward, or you'll go nowhere." 

In his defence, Harry did appear to be trying. 

Draco shook his head affectionately. "When it comes to having your feet on the ground, you really have no balance, do you?"

"Shut up. I can kick your arse in anything any day." He focused on his feet, just like with dancing.

"You seem to learn better through practice than theory. Here, just keep moving your feet like I said, and I'll pull you along." It was hard, skating backwards from the start, especially with extra weight, but with an effort he got them going. As they picked up speed, Harry's eyes grew wider and wider. They circled around the edge to avoid colliding with the other skaters. He had enough trouble getting Harry to go, let alone stop. 

When they had reached a steady pace, he removed one hand from Harry's grasp. He'd never seen so much panic on the boy's face before, not even when a rogue bludger was on his tail. "Don't let go of me!"

"Don't worry. I've got you." His right hand was being crushed by Harry's left, so even if he wanted to let go, he couldn't. "There, now we're side-by-side, just strolling along like we were doing earlier."

"Yeah, except this time we're on the world's most slippery surface." If he could pout, then he was doing fine.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can't fall in. The ice is too thick." It was, too. No one had ever been able to break past it. You could cut off the top layer, but anything deeper than a foot and the ice was impenetrable. Draco theorized that the entire pond from top to bottom was frozen completely.

"That does a bit." With the conversation going, Harry was focusing less on where his feet were going and more on looking ahead and at Draco, as he should be doing. All the boy needed was a good distraction, and he could do anything.

"There's actually a legend associated with this pond."

"Oh?"

They passed the skilled older woman who performed a triple axle like she was skipping through a meadow. "They say that long ago, long before Hogwarts was even built, that a young explorer visited the Black Lake. The witch was adventurous and kind, exploring new lands and finding new mysteries to solve. When the witch came upon the Black Lake, she dove into its murky depths to explore what sorts of creatures lived down there. She came across a siren being attacked by the Giant Squid. The witch used her magic to save the siren, and won the merperson's eternal gratitude."

Harry nodded along. As the story progressed, his grip on Draco's hand loosened and loosened until it was no longer necessary to keep him up, but simply there for comfort. 

"The witch befriended the siren, asking her all sorts of questions about the denizens of the lake, and of herself. As it turns out, the siren had been exiled from her home in the Mediterranean for refusing to marry the son of a neighboring king. The siren was a princess of nothing, and she was stuck in the cold lake forever, for she could not travel on land to reach warmer waters. 

"The witch felt bad for her new companion, and vowed to find a way so that she could walk on land, could be free to go wherever she wished. She studied all sorts of rituals and potions and spells to find a way to give her this ability. The siren didn't want to be human, but did wish to walk the earth and explore new lakes and oceans. One day, a wicked kelpie came to meet the witch instead of the siren. It had fallen in love with the siren and wanted her to stay in its lake, but the kelpie was clever. It told the witch that it could bestow its shape-shifting powers onto the siren, for a price."

"What was it?"

"The witch's heart. If it would give the kelpie her own heart, he would give the siren the power to shift between a human and a merperson, as it shifts between a horse and a kelpie. The kelpie knew that this was what the siren had desired more than her own freedom, and that even with the ability to walk away, she wouldn't leave the lake where her beloved's heart was. The witch agreed. For she too had fallen in love with the siren and wished to see her free and happy more than her own life. 

"When the siren emerged from the lake with a pair of human legs, she found her lover sitting on the shore. However, when she went to embrace her, she found that her witch had turned colder than the Black Lake. She had no knowledge of the deal the kelpie and the witch had made. You see, without her heart, the witch could no longer feel any emotions, including her love for her siren. Without her love by her side, she no longer wished to explore the world, just as the kelpie had planned.

"However, instead of returning to the Black Lake, the siren ran away, her heart broken. She came to this very spot where she cried for days and days until her tears had created this pond. In her despair, she took the emotionless body of her lover, desperate for any part of her, even if it did not love her back, and dove into the waters so that they could be together in their own world. The witch, without her heart, was colder than ice, and froze the pond where they both lay trapped for eternity. They say that only the love of the witch's heart could thaw the pond and set them both free. Supposedly, that heart lies somewhere at the bottom of the Black Lake, guarded by a bitter kelpie." 

"That's so sad."

"Most legends are."

"Has no one tried to go to the bottom of the Black Lake?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe. Some might have believed it and ventured down there, but many dangerous creatures live at the bottom of the lake, kelpies aside. Even the most talented wizard would fail. And could you imagine having to search the bottom of the black lake while fending off all these dangerous creatures on their home turf? And what would you even look for? A literal heart, or perhaps the story was a metaphor?"

"I know. It just feel a little guilty skating on top of some lovers' graves."

"Harry, I highly doubt that legend is real. Even if there were some kernel of truth, I've heard about three different stories about this pond, each with a different person trapped in it." Maybe he shouldn't have told this story. Sure, it succeeded in completely distracting Harry who didn't even seem to notice he had been skating under his own power for some time now, but making your date sad was generally frowned upon.

The other boy seemed too deep in thought for what Draco basically considered to act as a ghost story. Was he really so gullible to believe every story? He was taking this way too seriously. Harry mumbled under his breath, but Draco still heard it. "I wonder if I could find it in an hour."

"I highly doubt that. Do you seriously plan to go diving into the lake to go look for this heart that most likely doesn't even exist?" He knew Harry had a hero complex, but this was ridiculous.

He blinked owlishly up at Draco before his mouth turned into an O. "The Second Task is in the Black Lake. I'm supposed to have an hour to look for something taken from me. I just figured, while I was down there, might as well give it a go."

Now Draco blinked at him. "You already know what the Second Task is to be?"

"Yeah, the golden eggs were clues, remember?"

No, Draco did not remember, but then again, he had been too starstruck by a victorious, dragon-conquering Harry Potter to pay attention to what anyone else was saying. "So what's your plan then? The task isn't far away."

Harry looked as if he had just swallowed seawater.

"You don't have a plan!"

"Look, I've been researching, okay? Ron and Hermione have been helping out too. We can't find any way to last an hour underwater. Not to mention it's going to be freezing down there in February. We thought about using the Bubble-Head Charm but it's difficult magic, and has a tendency to pop under a certain amount of hydrostatic pressure, and we're not sure how deep into the Black Lake I'll need to go, and whether the charm will hold up that far down. We decided it wasn't worth the risk."

Wow, so he really had done his research. "Actually, I might be able to help with that." The look on Harry's face was priceless. Unfortunately, turning his head so sharply to look at him threw off his balance and he fell, landing hard on his arm. Draco stopped instantly, and scrambled to help him up, which wasn't easy on skates, mind you. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"You can help me?" Harry steadied himself on Draco's outstretched arms, and he widened his stance to compensate. 

"Yeah, I overheard a conversation Professor Moody and Longbottom were having about a plant called gillyweed, that can let you breath underwater. I don't remember the specifics of it, but you could probably look it up. I doubt you researched plants."

Harry stood still for a moment, gaping at Draco. Then, his hands left Draco's arms to grab his face and pull him forward in a short-lived, but no less passionate kiss. "You beautiful boy, you just saved my life."

He knew he was smiling drunkenly, but who wouldn't? "I'll be sure to do it more often if that is the reward."

Harry laughed and pulled him forward for one last peck. "Oh, that reminds me, your present." He dug into the pocket of his robes before he pulled out a tiny dragon, of all things. "During the First Task, we selected our dragons by literally picking them out of a bag. This one was mine."

"Were you supposed to keep it?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. No one told me to give it back, so I just kept it. And, well, considering your namesake, I thought you might like it."

Well, who didn't like dragons? He held his hand out to receive it, and the dragon happily leapt off of Harry's hand and onto Draco's, its tiny claws like pinpricks on his bare hands. It blew a tiny cloud of fire, before licking its chops and eyeing him. It may have been tiny, but Draco had no doubt it was deciding how to eat him. Hungarian Horntails were the most dangerous breed of dragon. "Wicked."

Harry beamed. "I'm glad you like it. I've just been keeping it in my trunk, but maybe you can make some sort of cage for it? It doesn't seem to be able to fly, otherwise I would have lost it by now." 

"I can't believe you got me a gift, and I don't have anything to show for it." And he was the rich one, too. He should be spoiling Harry rotten with gifts.

"What are you talking about? You just gave me free ice skating lessons, not to mention I'm technically re-gifting."

"Act modest all you want, but I'm going to treasure it-Ow! It bit me."

"Yeah, sorry, it does that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the third movie, I have this headcanon that Remus is really into swing music, and greatly enjoys serenading an embarrassed Sirius.
> 
> The song in this chapter is "That Old Black Magic" by Frank Sinatra. I'm not saying that Frank Sinatra was a wizard, but Frank Sinatra was a wizard.  
> You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bymLrAXm5Qk


	7. Cleaning Your Rose-Colored Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It all just felt like it was leading to something bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit, the majority of writing this fic, I've been listening to "Make Someone Happy" by Jimmy Durante.

Harry wrapped the blanket around him tighter, shivering from the cold lake water that clung to his skin. His wet bangs kept falling in front of his glasses, and he kept having to wipe them back. Once the excitement and adrenaline of coming in second place had worn off, he found that he really was rather cold.

"Honestly, Harry." A hot blast of air rocketed out of Draco's wand and smacked into Harry, blowing all the cold water out of his hair and clothes almost instantly, and with it, his shivers. 

He stared down at himself, surprised to be completely dry. "I love magic." He never ceased to be amazed at what feats magic could accomplish.

Draco sat down regally on the bed next to Harry. All of the champions had been shuffled to the Healer's tent to make sure that no damage had befallen them during the Second Task. Harry had already gotten the clean bill of health, and now he was wondering why no one had given him a change of clothes, or even performed that lovely spell Draco had done on him. "Is that so? Well, there's nothing more magical than a pure-blood." The eyebrow waggle was entirely unnecessary. 

"That is a terrible pickup line, and you should never use it again."

Draco laughed, and Harry found himself smiling just a little. He never would have imagined Draco Malfoy could actually be fun. "So, it appears the gillyweed worked splendidly."

"Actually, it stopped working towards the end there. I just made it to the surface in time."

"Oh." Draco wasn't smiling anymore. "Maybe you shouldn't have been such a bloody hero and decided to try and help everyone. You know you're competing against the others, right?"

"I didn't know they were safe."

"Of course they were! Do you think Professor Dumbledore would have really sent schoolchildren to the bottom of the lake if they were in any danger? Well, aside from the Champions, of course."

Harry didn't answer, just continued to wrap the blanket around himself and stare at the tent wall. Draco seemed perfectly happy to let them both sit in silence, but Harry felt a little awkward. "I was surprised, you know, that my 'precious thing' was Ron."

"What did you expect it to be?"

"At first I thought it was a thing, so I thought, maybe my Firebolt or my photo album of my parents. But I never really thought of Ron as my most precious person."

"Who would it have been, if not him? Me?"

Harry blushed slightly. "N-no. If it came down to it and I had to choose between the two of you, I'd choose him."

"That's fair. We've only recently gotten to know each other and he's got three years on me."

Harry shook his head. "It's not that. It's because he was the first friend I had ever made." And he had given Harry his first ever Christmas presents, had given him his own family. Ron was like a brother to him in a world where he had grown up alone. So, maybe he really shouldn't be surprised. 

Draco stared at him. "Your first friend wasn't until you were eleven?"

That was a whole bag of worms that he'd rather not get into at that moment. "When was yours?"

Now Draco flushed, smoothing his hair back only for it to fall back into place without the gel. "Just a few months ago."

"What? What about Crabbe and Goyle? Or Zabini and Parkinson? You guys are always hanging around each other."

"I told you once before, I don't have friends, I have followers. Crabbe and Goyle are basically the hired muscle with less personality than a rock, and Zabini and Parkinson are my left- and right-hand man, or woman, I suppose. Zabini's always vying for my power, and Pansy just hopes she can become Mrs. Malfoy and use the prestige it will bring her."

Had he seriously been thinking of everyone in that light? Tried to fit everyone into some imagined power structure? Maybe he really was more like his father than Harry had originally thought. "I don't think they see it that way. Crabbe and Goyle probably look up to you. Zabini just likes to tease you, and I'm pretty sure Pansy has an actual crush on you. She's been fawning all over you since last year." He didn't like her. Never had. She was more mean-spirited and sadistic than Draco, and she liked to stick her ugly pug nose into other people's business. And she kept fluttering her magically elongated eyelashes at Draco. Zabini was a possible threat, too. He took way too much pleasure in teasing Draco than was normal.

Draco stared straight ahead, eyes not seeing the swaying white canvas. Distantly, Harry could hear voices slowly approaching, though they were muffled by the walls of the tent. Draco must have heard them too, for he stood, making a move to leave before stopping in front of the tent flap. He turned slightly to look at him, and said in a serious voice. "If I had been the Triwizard Champion, it would have been you at the bottom of the lake." And then he left.

 

* * *

 

A month had passed since the Second Task. They received no hint this time, and so there was nothing to prepare for. Well, if you asked Hermione, they had final exams to prepare for, but he found that hard to focus on in March. They were three months away, after all. It had seemed with the melting of the snow, so melted away all of the excitement. At least this gave him time to sneak off with Draco. Sometimes, they found a secluded place to snog, sometimes they studied together in the library, and sometimes like today, they took a boat out onto the lake, just to get away from everyone. Harry was pretty sure it was against school rules, but he found it difficult to care when Draco was reposing in the sun like some marble statue in a museum. Really, he had no right looking so good. It really hadn't been that much of a leap from Draco to Tom during their Hogsmeade dates.

His beautiful pose was ruined by a grimace and a shift. "Ugh, these boats are bloody awful, even with a Cushioning Charm."

"I'm fine," Harry said easily. The wooden seats of the boat didn't seem to upset him that much.

"Of course you are, you barbarian. You could sleep just about anywhere, I bet. Argh, it probably wouldn't be so bad, but I fell asleep in one of the chairs in the Common Room last night, and now I'm a little sore."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Those chairs are really meant more for decoration than comfort." He realized his mistake just a second too late.

"How would you know that, Harry?"

He couldn't backpedal fast enough. He even scooted back to the stern of the boat. "I don't. I just guessed."

But Draco honed in on every nervous twitch and he crawled forward predatorily. "Harry...have you been in the Slytherin Common room?"

He gulped. Well, the jig was up. He gave a paraphrased version of the events of second year, watching Draco's mind explode with each new revelation. 

"Do you realize what you've done? No other houses have been inside the Slytherin Dungeons since the 13th century. You've broken seven centuries of tradition."

"You're not mad that we knocked out Crabbe and Goyle and pretended to be them to get information out of you?"

"No, they deserved what they got if they're that dumb. Actually, I'm a little proud. Who would have known you Gryffindors could be so sneaky? How very Slytherin of you."

"I almost was a Slytherin, you know. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in both. I asked for it to put me in Gryffindor."

Draco snorted. "And why would you do that?"

"Well, I had just met an insufferable git who had been sorted into Slytherin."

That shut him up. He looked decently shamed, staring at the waters instead of Harry. His recovery time was remarkable, though. "Then I have done Hogwarts a great disservice by scaring you away from the most noble house of Slytherin. We could have had a Slytherin Harry Potter." He sighed wistfully.

Harry just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, cause that would have made my Second Year so much better. People already thought I was the Heir of Slytherin."

"Yeah, I never understood that. Your best friend was Granger, not to mention you were just a twelve year old kid. How could anyone think you were a genocidal murderer?"

"Thanks. That actually means a lot."

"I'm flattered you thought it was me though."

Harry just splashed him with lake water.

 

* * *

 

  
Not for the first time, Harry wondered just what it was about him that sparked such intense disgust in Snape. The Potions professor not only seemed to take particular glee in his misfortunes and shortcomings, but almost seemed to eagerly seek them out, if not create them. His grip on Harry's arm was so strong, he had no doubts they would leave purpling imprints by tomorrow. Could he just get through one year without getting bruised and manhandled? Honestly, he got enough from his relatives.

Snape paused in front of a narrow door just long enough to spell it open and toss Harry inside. Although he left the door open, he blocked the only exit with his tall, imposing frame. The room was lined floor to ceiling with shelves of dusty old jars with handwritten labels. 

"Look familiar?" Snape drawled, unimpressed with Harry's prone form leaning against a ladder. "It should. You've been sneaking into it every fortnight."

"Sir, I don't know-"

"Don't sass me, Mr. Potter. Boomslang skin, lacewing flies, _gillyweed_. Perhaps you and your friends are up to your old tricks again."

Draco had given him the gillyweed. He hadn't stolen it from Professor Snape, surely? "I really don't know what you're talking about professor."

Snape regarded him for a heavy lidded moment, before quickly flicking around to grab a tiny bottle green vial off of the shelf to his left. "Potter, can you tell me what this is?"

Harry bit his tongue in order to prevent him from saying "the oil you put in your hair, sir?" Instead, he wisely shook his head.

"Why am I not surprised? Veritaserum. Just a few drops of this and You-Know-Who himself would divulge his deepest secrets. The use of it on a student is regrettably forbidden, but believe me, Potter, there are other ways for me to know your secrets, and should you steal from my private stores again, I will not hesitate to use them."

He swallowed a lump in his throat, but with the threat finally delivered, surely he would be allowed to escape? But Snape had not removed himself from the doorway, and instead was staring at him for a rather unnerving amount of time. Eventually, Snape spoke, but his reprimanding tone had changed. It didn't have the immediate, righteous anger from before, the kind that meant that Harry was a horrible child who deserved to be punished and that was a universal fact. Now it sounded more ominous, like a warning or a prophecy. "Do you ever think about the consequences of your actions? Is there room in that tiny little head of yours to think about how you affect others? Do you even realize that you are dragging Draco down with you?"

Never had he suspected that. His throat clamped shut so that the only noise he could make was intelligible sputtering. 

"Yes, I know about his dalliance," Snape looked like he just might vomit, "with you. The two of you are horribly obvious, though lucky for you, it seems everyone else in this castle is as oblivious as you." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You must have some self-awareness. You are a magnet for danger, just like your father was. You bring death to those close to you. Think about these things while you continue to ruin Draco's life." And then he left, ran away before Harry could defend himself.

Not that he could. The comment about his father made him flare up in rage, and yet some part of him wondered if he really was cursed.

 

* * *

 

Standing out on the Quidditch Pitch felt nostalgic. A silly notion, Harry realized, as it hadn't even been a full year yet since he last played a game, but standing on the green instead of walking on air left him with a strange sense of vertigo. He looked at Cedric eyeing the bleachers, and wondered if he felt the same way.

"Welcome, Champions," Ludo Bagman greeted them jovially. "I have invited all of you here to tell you about the Third Task. On this very spot where we all stand, a maze will be grown. Within this maze will be all manner of obstacles and creatures you will have to overcome. Your goal is to find the Triwizard Cup. The first person to touch the cup is the winner." 

He continued to give them hints that didn't really help very much. Sure, they knew their general goal and challenge, but without knowing what particular obstacles lay in wait, what would he practice for? Maybe there was some kind of spell to help him navigate a maze? What if they threw more dragons in there?

Bagman dismissed them, and they all went their separate ways, except a hand on Harry's shoulder stopped him. Viktor Krum was staring at him in that same stoic and grim way that seemed to be a Bulgarian trait. Had he ever seen Viktor smile? Not that he spent much time in the other's company.

"Potter, I vish to speak to you. Valk vith me." 

Harry nodded, following Krum as he led them from the Quidditch Pitch and towards the edge of the forest. They skirted along the treeline, not entering, and yet far enough away from the castle that Harry began to wonder whether his competition had more sinister plans. He never expected to get an interrogation into his relationship with Hermione. "We're not dating. We've never dated, and we never will date. Rita Skeeter was just making things up."

"Hermy-own-ninny speaks of you a lot." With such a grim face, Harry had expected a far more serious matter, but maybe to Krum, this was a serious matter. It never occurred to him that Krum's feelings ran so deep, although they should have considering she was his "precious thing" during the Second Task. Hermione barely talked about him, and when she did, it only started another argument with Ron. It made Harry feel a little sorry for the guy. He could only imagine how he'd feel if everyone kept telling him that Draco was also dating another person. 

"Yes, because I'm her friend. She's like a sister to me. Look, if it'll put your mind at ease, I'm already dating someone else."

"Really? Who?"

His cheeks colored. "Nevermind who. The important part is that they're most definitely _not_ Hermione. She's never cheated on you, I swear."

Finally, Krum's face eased into a peaceful stoic expression. He opened his mouth, but at that point, Mr. Crouch burst out of the forest looking like a madman.

 

* * *

 

His letter back from Padfoot did little to settle his nerves. First Mr. Crouch starts acting funny and sending Percy to act in his stead, then he randomly shows up spouting nonsense, and now he goes missing. His scar had been throbbing painfully and he'd even passed out and had a vision of Voldemort during Divination. And then that memory in Dumbledore's office about the Death Eater trial. He shouldn't have been surprised that Snape had been a Death Eater, and yet somehow he still felt disappointed in the man. The way he had spoken to him in his private stores... He wondered how known ex-Death Eaters could teach children at schools, or even become Headmaster in Karkaroff's case.

It all just felt like it was leading to something bad. Professor Trelawney had predicted his death for the fifth time that year, and honestly, it was getting a little old, but maybe she just might be right. Maybe he really was stupid, to only now start to feel unsafe. 

He sighed, tossing the letter into the flames. As much as he wanted any scrap of his Godfather, he couldn't risk anyone finding it and possibly linking it back to Sirius. Hatred flared up in him once more for Pettigrew. Not only had the slimy rat betrayed his parents, ultimately killing them, but had succeeded in trapping his godfather in the shadows. He knew how stir-crazy his godfather was growing, how much he longed for sunlight and to stretch his legs. Even traveling about as an Animagus was too dangerous.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione settled herself in front of the fireplace next to him, and Ron sandwiched him on the other side. "I'm sure Dumbledore's got a plan."

"Yeah, and with these visions, we now know what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gets up to," Ron said positively, lax arms wrapped around his knees. 

"I don't want these visions," Harry snapped. "I don't want this connection to him. I don't want any of this." Not only did Voldemort take his parents from him, but his childhood too. How had it taken him this long to resent that? If Voldemort had truly died that day, if he never existed, would he be able to walk proudly next to Draco, to let everyone see their happily joined hands? Would Draco have been proud to date him?

His friends flinched at his tone, instantly making him feel like a jerk. They were only trying to comfort him. It's no fault of their own that he was scared. And he was, as ashamed as he was to admit it. This felt just like all the previous years where it led to something horrible that almost killed him and his friends. He was tired of being the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I know, mate." Ron's voice was small, but he still put a hand on Harry's shoulder, shaking him gently.

Hermione put her arm around his shoulders in a half hug that left her hand resting on Ron's, and he could feel it tense on his shoulder. "We're here for you, Harry. You're not alone."

The corners of his eyes stung and his throat hurt. He let his hand fall on top of theirs, and their small smiles warmed him more than the fire ever could.

 

* * *

 

"Dra-Tom, where are we going?"

"I should think that was terribly obvious by now."

"Ok, let me rephrase: _why_ are we going ice skating in May?"

"It's an eternally frozen pond, remember? Besides, you need a break and to practice. You've been awful tense lately."

"The concern is sweet, but really, I'm fine."

"If you were really fine, we would already be snogging by now. Come on, a gloomy James is a boring James."

"So you only want me for my body?"

"Not your whole body, just your lips. Now close them and bring them here."

 

* * *

 

The closer June loomed, the more stressed and frizzy-haired Hermione got. She barely talked to them, for want of reading all of her textbooks cover to cover. Harry was pretty sure she had them all memorized by now. He didn't know why end of the year exams stressed her out so much when she always aced all of her tests. Ron on the other hand looked practically carefree compared to her, although even he seemed worried about his tests. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't seem to muster up the energy to care. He probably should be worried about his grades, but they seemed so paltry compared to the looming threat of the Third Task and this sense of dread in his stomach. Mr. Crouch was still missing, and his scar hadn't ached in a while. That should be good news, but it only worried him further.

His sulking was interrupted by a smack in the head. He looked to see that what had hit him was a paper bird, just like the one he had sent Draco so long ago. He unfolded it, and it simply said _Look at the staff table_. He did, and almost immediately had to clamp his hand over his mouth to smother his giggles. Hagrid was sitting next to Madame Maxime, an obvious grin plastered on his face. His hair had even been combed, and a flower that looked more like a weed poked out of the breast pocket of a jacket Harry had never seen him wear before. The two of them were holding hands and gazing at each other like they didn't have an audience of a hall full of children. Then, Hagrid leaned forward, ever so slightly, and his elbow knocked over a carafe of pumpkin juice. It spilled everywhere, including on Professor Flitwick's plate of food, who howled in rage.

Harry looked over to the Slytherin table where Draco was watching him with a snicker.

He quickly jotted down _Don't be mean_ on the paper bird before sending it flapping back. But he found himself smiling throughout the rest of the day.


	8. Voldemort Ruins Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He didn't feel any surprise or worry. He didn't feel much of anything at all, just a calm understanding that his dreams were all ruined."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been a strong supporter of Seer!Luna. Honestly, she's my favorite character.

Transfiguration had never been one of Draco's strong suits. He knew some rather advanced Charms and even Snape himself said that his potions were stronger than any fifth year's. So that's why he had decided to use what little Transfiguration knowledge he had maintained to transfigure his textbook into a fly, which he then swatted with his Potions textbook. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to transfigure it back, if he even could now that he'd killed it, so he'd have to borrow someone else's.

"You shouldn't kill flies like that," a dreamy voice over his shoulder alerted him to the arrival of a droopy-eyed Ravenclaw girl. He recognized her even though they had never been introduced before. Students from all houses liked to bully Looney Lovegood. "They're magical creatures with one and a half lives."

"One and a half lives?"

"Yes, they automatically come back as ghosts and haunt those that have killed them. Every time you feel an itch or a buzzing but can't find a bug, then you're being haunted."

"That sounds like utter crock."

She shrugged her shoulders, her turnip earrings dangling with the movement. "Although since it had once been a book, I think you might be safe. That's something worth looking into, if transfigured creatures have souls."

"Not to be rude, but why are you talking to me?"

"Because you are listening. Have you ever heard of the Butterfly Effect?"

"Do they haunt you if you kill them too?"

"No, I don't think so. They aren't as vengeful as flies. The Butterfly Effect is a theory on time travel. If one were to go back in time and accidentally step on a butterfly, it would set off a cascade of events that could end the world. But I think it can be applied to the present time as well. We all have choices, you see, an infinite amount of them. They flit past us with no notice just like a butterfly, but each and everyone matters. For instance, you made the choice to kill that fly. You would never have made that choice if you hadn't decided to transfigure your book into a fly. And you wouldn't have transfigured your book if you had been in a study group. On the other hand, you could have transfigured your book into a butterfly, and then killed that, saving yourself from the fly's curse."

"This is all wonderful philosophical conjecture, but why are you telling me any of this?"

"Your choices create a path, which is then split by the many other choices you could take, multiplying like the branches of a tree, or more like a weave. There are certain knots that must be stitched, certain choices that are like whirlpools, pulling the river of time towards them so that there is no escape." For someone who talked so much, none of her words seemed to make any sense.

"And what's your point?"

"You're about to have such a choice upon you soon. It crosses with many other rivers and trees, woven together. It's rather important."

"If it's so important, then what should my choice be? When will it be?"

She shook her head. "I don't know any of that. I can just see the whirlpools and knots. But I believe you'll make the decision you want. After all, all decisions are the right ones, in their own worlds."

He sat there, unsure of whether this strange girl was trying to warn him about something, threaten him, or had inhaled the wrong kind of fumes from her cauldron. But her words were so vague and littered with metaphors on top of metaphors, that they ceased to do their job as words. "Er, right then."

She smiled, nodding her head on a job well done. "Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Draco Malfoy. I do hope the fly ghost doesn't bother you too much." And then she skipped off, her bounce much lighter than her words had been.

He stared at her retreating form before it disappeared behind a bookshelf. Absently, he scratched his elbow, but quickly stopped once he realized what he was doing.

 

* * *

 

Draco and Harry sat up in the rafters of the clock tower, the clanking of gears a soothing noise that drowned out the hum of the school below. They passed a tin of colorful pastilles that turned your mouth, including your teeth, the color of the candy. Draco's was a bright magenta, while Harry looked like he had just eaten an entire bushel of spinach. He'd had to drag the boy up here. They hadn't spent time together outside of class, as busy as the both of them were.

"Do these ever wear off?" Even as he asked, Harry popped a black one into his mouth.

"No."

He spit the pastille out, and Draco couldn't have stopped himself from laughing even if he had wanted to. "You look like someone had just punched all of your teeth out."

"Would you like to look the same?" But there was no real threat behind it. At least he had gotten him to smile.

"Don't get testy. I think it's an improvement."

Harry grabbed the tin, making a show of rummaging around inside it. "Is there one in here that will glue your mouth shut?"

"I can think of much funner ways to shut me up." He leaned forward, batting his eyelashes.

"You're insatiable. Like a kiss vampire or something."

"Harry, we haven't so much as held hands in over a week. How am I supposed to function when you sit just a few seats away from me, looking so very ratty and kissable?"

He looked away with a flush, petting down his hair self-consciously. Honestly, if Draco took a moment to think about the lines that spilled from his mouth, he just might die from embarrassment, but they were worth it when Harry would get all bashful and smiley like that. Seriously, the boy acted as if no one had ever paid attention to him before. A ridiculous thought, considering who he was.

And now his eyes kept flicking back and forth between the tin he was fiddling with mindlessly and Draco expectantly. "What?"

Harry clutched the sweets closer. "Well...uh, why haven't you, yet? Y'know, if you want to so bad."

Draco smirked. "It seems like you're the one who wants it so bad. It's perfectly acceptable for you to initiate a kiss, you know. You have done it before."

"I was caught up in the moment! And I've never needed to start before, because usually you're trying to snog the life out of me."

"I keep telling you to breath through your nose."

"You're always bumping your nose into mine. Makes it difficult."

"I have no problems. Maybe you're the one bumping mine."

The bashful Harry was now gone, replaced by the very same Harry he always saw during Quidditch matches. Next thing he knew, the pastille tin had been tossed to the side, and Harry pounced on him like a lion. His face was bracketed by soft hands, and his lips were being assaulted. The snogging was so fierce, he felt his back push against the glass face of the clock. When their teeth clacked painfully together, he pushed Harry's face from his. "Who the hell would be able to breathe with you attacking them like that? Haven't you learned anything from me?"

His mouth scrunched close in embarrassment. Draco could practically see him closing himself off behind cold walls.

Quickly, he added, "Haven't you ever kissed someone before?"

"You." 

"Just me?"

Harry nodded after a moment, averting his eyes. 

Draco felt that stupid, drunk feeling again that made him smile like a dope.

"Shut up. It's not that weird. I bet you haven't kissed anybody else yet, have you?"

"I never wanted to kiss someone before you." 

Having a lap full of melted Harry wasn't so bad. He could get used to it. "Then, here, let me show you how to kiss someone properly." He guided Harry's hips until he was straddling him, and Harry rested his arms on his shoulders. This way, he had to tilt his head back to look up into Harry's glowing face. It was so easy to fluster him, and Draco couldn't get enough. He leaned upwards, until their breaths mingled, and whispered, "Now kiss me."

Harry descended gently this time, his lips meeting his in a warm embrace. He puckered his lips just a bit, pushing them onto Harry's and his hands tightened around his hips when he felt them press back. No matter how many times they did it, Draco could never get enough of kissing Harry. Whether Harry was aggressive or timid, it always felt like it was their first one, but also familiar, as if they had been kissing for years. He wanted to kiss Harry for years to come.

Many nights, he dreamed of their life together. Eventually Draco would gain the courage to date Harry Potter publicly, and they'd become the envy of the school, everyone wanting him or wanting to be him. They might have a couple of fights growing up, but they'd always make up in the end. He'd invite Harry to his manor over the summers, and they'd go swimming in the pond in the gardens that they're not supposed to go swimming in, they'd race each other on their brooms, and Harry would eventually let Draco buy him a proper wardrobe. They'd graduate, probably get jobs in the Ministry or whatever they wanted. He'd teach Harry how to use his fame to his advantage, or maybe, with You-Know-Who long vanquished, no one would care anymore. They'd grow old, buy a cottage in Hogsmeade so that they could go ice skating whenever they wanted. They'd laugh at all the students visiting the village, remembering a time they too had once flopped about in wonder.

A powerful longing tugged at his heart and pushed himself further up into Harry, his kisses growing more impassioned. He wanted that dream so badly. Maybe when he returned home for the summer holidays, he could convince his father that Harry Potter was better as an asset than an enemy. Warm him up to the idea as friends first, and then, when Harry's natural charms won him over, he'd reveal their true relationship. His father might try to put his foot down, but he was sure that if he could get his mother on his side, his father would eventually submit. He could do this.

 

* * *

 

The Third Task had a much higher turnout than the others. The families of the Champions (or in Harry's case the Weasleys) had arrived to cheer on their kids. The school band played a bright and brassy fanfare and the large stands cheered at the tall hedge maze. In the swell of the crowd, no one would be any wiser if he were to cheer for Harry instead of Diggory, or even Krum, as most of the Slytherins had taken to doing. 

The waiting had been hard. The thick hedge and low mist muffled any sounds that might have escaped, but not the two red sparks rocketing up into the cloudy evening sky. The judges and teachers rushed to rescue the students. Draco was both relieved and disappointed that they returned with Delacour and Krum. Maybe it was the darkening sky, or maybe it was the way the maze shifted as if a powerful gust had just blown through it, but Draco felt more anxious as time went on. He didn't care if Harry won, he just wanted to make sure that a tournament known for its casualty rate didn't decide to take just one more.

But then Harry returned.

The crowd jumped up into raucous applause, the band hopping into its peppy victory march. People waved flags and banners, some even sang, but Draco found the noise dulling into the background as he stared at Harry, one hand clutching his wand and the other clutching a very still Cedric Diggory. In a heartbeat, he pushed past people and leapt down the stands to Harry's crumpled form. He didn't think about what people would say, he didn't think about the shrill scream from someone behind him. All he could think about was Harry, who was sobbing over a dead body. At the same time he reached Harry, the teachers had swarmed around him. 

Professor Dumbledore tried to pull Harry off of the body but the boy refused. So instead, the professor rounded about to get a better look. The crowd was as silent as a graveyard. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, and he instantly crumpled. "He's back," he sobbed over and over again. 

"Harry, who's back?"

"Voldemort." His entire body flinched involuntarily. "He's back. He killed Cedric. He told me to bring his body back. I had to bring him back."

It was only then that he noticed that Harry was bleeding from a large gash on his arm. He didn't feel any surprise or worry. He didn't feel much of anything at all, just a calm understanding that his dreams were all ruined. This must be shock numbing him, but right now he gladly welcomed it so that he could focus on comforting Harry.

Cedric Diggory's father fell to his knees, and that's about the time that Draco decided to pull Harry up to his feet. He didn't need to see this. He'd already seen too much. But then someone was pulling Harry out of his arms. A flickering eyeball darted around.

"No, where are you taking him?"

"Potter doesn't need to be here right now." He supposed he should be glad a professor was taking over, even if it was Mad-Eye Moody, who had always seemed to glare at him during class. 

He nodded. "Right, we should get him to the Hospital Wing."

Professor Moody sneered. " _I_ am taking Potter. You will stay here."

"No, I need to be with him." Harry needed him right now.

"A boy's just died tonight, Malfoy. Potter needs to be questioned, but only after he's in a state to be questioned, and you will just have to wait until afterwards."

Draco hesitated, his hand still holding onto his sleeve. He supposed it would look suspicious if one champion returned alive, the winner, and the other dead. But he couldn't so directly disobey a professor, and Harry needed attention immediately, so he let his hand fall to his side. He'd go see Harry once the professors had given him the all-clear. Snape would be able to tell him what was going to happen to Harry. But when he turned around to speak with him, he found him walking back towards the castle along with Mcgonagall and Dumbledore.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him, and he turned to see none other than Granger and Weasley shooting him empathetic glances. What a strange day for him to be comforted by them. 

The teachers, including the Minister of Magic, rounded up the students and sent them back to the castle while Diggory's family went about moving...him. He swallowed bile. He never wanted to see another corpse ever again.

They followed the flow of the students before Weasley grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the fourth floor. "What are you doing?" he whispered, though he had no idea why.

"You want to see Harry, don't you?" Weasley answered back in an annoyed tone, yanking him forward.

Deciding not to look a gift lion in the mouth, he didn't raise any more objections. Not that he hadn't planned to go see Harry himself, but he had been planning to ask a teacher when he could. Granger and Weasley moved as if the rules hadn't even occurred to them. 

Apparently, that was a family trait, because two more Weasleys looked up at them from where they had been arguing with a harassed looking Madam Pomfrey. The woman, most likely the Weasel mother, regarded him with a confounded stare. "Is that the Malfoy's son? What's he doing here?"

Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, but before he could defend himself, Weasley, or, er, Ron stepped forward. "It's okay, mum. He and Harry are friends now." A bit more than that, but who was he to out Harry to the Weasel mother?

She seemed to accept it more easily than Draco would have suspected, given how much their families loathed one another. Maybe it was all on his father's side. After all, Mrs. Weasley didn't sneer at him, just seemed confused. So instead, he asked a much more important question. "Where's Harry? I thought Professor Moody was taking him here?"

Now Madam Pomfrey stepped forward with an exaggerated sigh. "As I've been telling you people, Harry's not been here. And as for Professor Moody..." She turned her head to look at one of the hospital beds that had been previously blocked from his view by the two mysterious Weasleys. The professor was lying on the bed, looking pale and weak, his wooden leg and magical eye on the bedside table.

A jolt of fear raced through his throat. What had happened to him? What had happened to Harry? Where was he? He regretted not insisting on accompanying them.

But then the doors opened, and Harry walked in. Followed by Professor Dumbledore and a large black dog. Had Dumbledore always had a pet dog? But that didn't matter, because Harry was walking like an Inferi. Draco was by his side in an instant. "Harry, are you alright?"

The others echoed his concerns, but he didn't pay any attention to them, only to Harry. He rubbed his arms. They felt too cold with their sleeves ripped open. Harry looked at him as if he had just realized any of them were there. "'m tired."

Dumbledore helped up a hand to stop any more hysterics or inquiries. "Harry's had a terrible ordeal tonight, and could do with a good night's rest. I'll ask that you not interrogate him until he's got some much needed sleep. You may stay, if he wishes it." At everyone's curious stares, he added, "This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while. I assure you, he is extremely well trained." Then he turned to Harry. "I would like for you to stay here tomorrow until I have spoken to the whole school."

Harry nodded, and then Dumbledore left. Draco led Harry to the bed, Mrs. Weasley tucked him in, and Madam Pomfrey gave him a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Harry fell asleep almost instantly, and Draco just resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the wild bangs on his forehead. Madam Pomfrey muttered a quick spell to clean and heal up that wound on his arm, leaving his skin unblemished. 

Now that Harry was finally healed and sleeping, he found himself unbearably tired. Maybe he could convince Madam Pomfrey to let him take the bed next to Harry's?  
"Well, no sense in us waiting around when Harry's safe and asleep." Mrs. Weasley's voice was not as chipper as her words tried to convey. "And you children look like you could do with a bit of a kip as well."

"I'm staying." He said his words with a steely finality.

But they went right over Mrs. Weasley's head. "Now, now, off to your beds. Harry will still be here in the morning."

Draco begged to differ. He had thought Harry had been in the Hospital Wing, but that showed him just how much danger the boy could get into when he wasn't within Draco's sight.

"I'm not leaving."

Mrs. Weasley looked at him, really looked at him, before giving up with a sigh. "Fine, I'm sure you can stay here. The rest of you, off to bed."

"But Mum-"

"No, no, off to bed with the both of you. Now."

The Weasleys shepherded themselves out, taking a worried Granger along with them. Draco pulled a chair to Harry's bedside, while Madam Pomfrey brought him a fresh pair of hospital pyjamas that she left folded on the bed next to Harry's. He ignored them, determined to stay up for as long as he could to watch over his boyfriend.

The dog, which had been completely forgotten until now, padded up to him and loudly sniffed him. He jolted in his seat, worried he might be bitten. His father's show dogs had bit him once, during training. They had received a punishment so harsh that they didn't dare to so much as nuzzle him again. He had never really seen the appeal of the creatures ever since. "G-good boy. See? I'm not a threat. No need to maul me."

The dog stopped sniffing to tilt its head at him curiously. It had rather expressive eyes that had a thin sliver of grey around the large pupils. It seemed rather intelligent for a dog.

"I'm, uh, not good with dogs. Or any animals for that matter." Except for maybe unicorn foals. 

The dog was a curiosity, though. Why had Dumbledore insisted it stay here? Was it Harry's? He thought for a moment that maybe it was Hagrid's dog, Fang, but if he remembered correctly, that dog had short hair and long, wrinkly jowls. This dog was lean, with long, wiry hair. After a long moment of staring, it lay on the floor, resting its head on its front paws, eyes never leaving him. 

Since it didn't seem to want to eat him, he settled for simply ignoring it, focusing on Harry's sleeping face instead. He had never seen the boy look so relaxed before, devoid of any emotion. 'He could almost be dead,' his mind helpfully supplied, and he had to put his finger on the pulse point in Harry's wrist to reassure himself that the dreamless sleep hadn't become his final sleep. Then he let his fingers stay there, because he could.

 

* * *

 

Draco didn't last an hour before he started slumping in his chair, and eventually crawled into bed in defeat. Between the gentle patter of rain on the windows and the soothing tick of some clock he couldn't see, there was little to keep him awake. At least he could still watch Harry, even if he were laying down. Of course, that meant he woke up to a wild bush of hair blocking his view. He growled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. To his dismay, he found Harry still very much asleep past Granger's hair.

She noticed him and bid him good morning politely. When he conspicuously looked around the room, she explained, "Ron's gone down to the kitchens to grab us some breakfast. Mrs. Weasley and Bill are having a discussion with Dumbledore in his office, but they should return shortly."

He nodded, feeling the last dregs of sleep fall away. They sat in silence. He noticed the dog was still curled up on the floor, though in a different spot this time. Had it ever kept Draco out of its sights? Harry's chest moved so slowly, that he almost feared that it wasn't moving at all. Still deep asleep then. "Why have you all been so...accepting of my presence here? Weasley even led me here. I understand that we made a truce, but..."

Granger turned so that most of her was pointed at him now, instead of Harry. "Because you were the first one to his side when he returned. Everyone saw."

And now he felt the anxiety retroactively creep up and bite him. He hadn't returned to his dorm last night either. What sort of theories were being spun in Slytherin House right now? Did his inner circle think it was all part of his scheme? Even Draco had to admit that that was unlikely. He had as good as kissed Harry in front of the whole school. Now he really didn't want to leave the Hospital Wing.

Then, just as Granger had said, Weasley returned with a basket full of pastries, egg sandwiches, and apples. He only paused for a moment when he saw Draco awake, but just silently handed him a sandwich. As anxious as he felt, his stomach still grumbled hungrily. He ate the sandwich in three bites.

"So, do we know exactly what's happened yet?"

Weasley nodded. "Dumbledore just told the whole school, and I asked Professor McGonagall for the rest of the details, so we wouldn't bother Harry when he woke up."

"And?"

Weasley finished chewing his lingonberry muffin, swallowed it, and then explained everything. He told Draco about how Professor Moody had actually been a Death Eater all along, that he had been the one to put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire, so that when he won, he would touch the Triwizard Cup and be Portkeyed to a graveyard, where his blood had been used in a Dark ritual to resurrect the Dark Lord, how Cedric Diggory had been an unfortunate bystander pulled along with Harry.

"So he's really back?" He hated how small his voice sounded, but the fear that clenched his throat made it difficult to get more air out.

Weasley nodded. "I'm surprised you're not happy about it."

"Happy? How the hell could I be happy about this?" His dreams would never come true if You-Know-Who rose to power. 

"Isn't your father a Death Eater?"

Draco didn't answer. His father never spoke directly about his time under You-Know-Who. He had never explicitly stated, and Draco had never asked, but he knew. Everyone knew. However status and wealth were more powerful than knowledge. But if the Dark Lord had returned, would that mean his father would be welcomed back into the fold? Would his family be expected to follow?

Their conversation was interrupted by the loud bang of the double doors being thrown open. In marched the Minister of Magic, face set in a determined line, followed by an exasperated Professor McGonagall and the two Weasleys (the mother and this 'Bill,' he presumed). Minister Fudge demanded Dumbledore, even though the old codger was most likely in his office than in a hospital wing.

Sleepy grumbling drew attention to a quickly waking Harry. Stupid old man, making such noise in a hospital. He leapt out of his bed, glad he had slept in his school robes now that he needed to make an appearance before the Minister of Magic himself. In a heart beat, he was on the other side of Harry's bed, so that he wouldn't have to share at least one half of him with his friends. "Harry?"

He rubbed his eyes sleepily, hands fumbling for his glasses, and Draco quickly put them in his hands. He blinked a lot, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore walked in, followed by Snape. That's when the arguing really started. The adults traded words like a fencer traded parries. Minister Fudge steadfastly refused to believe that You-Know-Who had any part in the latest events, or that the Dark Lord had survived that fateful Halloween night at all. He brought up some good points, though. Really, all they had to go on was Harry's word, even if everybody believed him without question. But that Dumbledore was trying to cause a panic to usurp Fudge's position as Minister? Even he couldn't believe that. As powerful as Dumbledore was, he didn't crave it, didn't greedily grasp at any opportunity. That, more than anything, is what really brought the reality of the situation down on him. The Dark Lord had risen once again and their leader refused to acknowledge it out of fear.

"Look, I can give you names," Harry shouted, and Draco realized that he had tuned out of the conversation at some point. He didn't look at Draco, and he realized that Harry hadn't once looked at him all this time. "Lucius Malfoy-"

His heart seized, and no one gasped in shock. Snape sent him a heavy look that he couldn't decipher, and the others were glancing at him overtly. Hell, even that dog was giving him the eye.

"Malfoy was cleared." Well, at least Fudge spoke in his father's defense, even if they all knew his father had done the crime. Draco had no doubt his father had shown up to that graveyard. "He's made several donations to various causes-"

"Macnair!" Harry cut in sharply.

"Also cleared. And now working for the Ministry." That only meant You-Know-Who had spies.

"Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle-"

"You are only repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago." And the parents of many of Draco's Housemates. It felt supremely uncomfortable in the hospital wing now, as if he were the one on trial. It was a well-known secret in Slytherin House that most students' parents had been supporters of the Dark Lord during his reign. After all, many of them agreed with his views, and hoped that they could affect real change in their world. It was a noble cause, even if he couldn't agree with the methods. The Dark Lord... He just took things to the extreme, twisted them into something nasty and repulsive.

Fudge was shaking a finger at Dumbledore now, skin splotched red and quivering."If you are working against me-"

"The only one I seek to work against is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we are on the same side, Cornelius."

The Minister looked cowed, almost desperate. In a much softer voice, he pleaded, "He can't be back, Dumbledore. He just can't..."

That's when Snape strode forward with purpose and lifted the sleeve of his left arm, exposing a faint skull entwined with a serpent. Someone gasped loudly, and it took Draco a moment to realize that it was him. No one else in the room seemed surprised by its presence. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was last night, but it's still there. He burned it into each of his Death Eaters, so that when he touched it, it would summon them to him. It still burns."

Fudge recoiled as if Snape had showed him a particularly nasty boil instead of a magical tattoo. "I've heard enough. I must return to the Ministry. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, about the running of this school." And then he ran off.

The moment the door closed behind Fudge, the Headmaster turned to Mrs. Weasley with a serious mein. "Molly, can I count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," she answered back fiercely. 

Dumbledore nodded. "Then I need to send a message to Arthur. All that can be persuaded of the truth must be notified immediately, before Cornelius turns the Ministry against us. 

The older Weasley boy stood up. "I'll go to Dad. I can deliver your message."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Madam Pomfrey, I would like for you to go find Hagrid and bring him to my office. Minerva, try to see if Madame Maxime might join me as well."

The two women nodded, and Draco thought they just might salute the man on their way out. This felt very much like they were planning for a battle. As soon as they had gone, Dumbledore looked at each of them remaining. His eyes landed on him for a beat longer than the others before he said, "Now I think it's time for our members to recognize each other." Then his gaze dropped to the black dog. "Sirius, if you would return to your usual form."

And then in a flash, the dog was gone, replaced with a scruffy looking man with long black hair and grey eyes. Draco recognized him instantly from the wanted posters, but it was Mrs. Weasley who screamed "Sirius Black!" Her son admonished her hysterics in such a rude manner that would have surely earned Draco a cuff around the ears had he said the same thing to his own mother. Snape, on the other hand, looked like he had seen a ghost, or that he just might sick up. 

"Him! What is he doing here?" Snape snarled the words at Dumbledore, but his eyes never left Black's. 

"He is here at my invitation, as are you, Severus. We share the same purpose. Now it's time to set aside old differences and trust each other. If the few of us who know the truth don't stand united, then our cause is lost."

Snape slowly nodded, as though it pained him, and Black shared a similar look. 

"That will have to do for now." Dumbledore sighed, then turned to Black. "Sirius, I need you to go alert the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while. I will contact you there." 

Black nodded.

"Wait." Harry's voice startled everyone. With Dumbledore taking charge and Harry remaining quiet in his bed, they had all quite forgotten he was there. "But-"

The man crossed over to Harry's side in one pace, a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "You'll see me soon, Harry, I promise. But I've got to do this, you understand?"

Harry's head hung. "Yes...I do."

"Good lad." He ruffled Harry's hair affectionately before transforming back into a dog and running out of the hospital wing.

Then Dumbledore turned to Snape, who still looked a bit pale. "Severus, you understand what I must ask of you. If you are prepared..."

"I am," Snape said with a quiet conviction. He had never seen that look in his eyes before.

Dumbledore paused, the first time he had done since Minister Fudge had barged in. Draco couldn't recall a time the headmaster had ever looked so hesitant. He didn't speak aloud whatever might have concerned him, instead, he simply nodded and dismissed himself.

Snape put a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "Mr. Malfoy, if I might have a word with you elsewhere." It was not a request, and so Draco nodded and followed him out. Instead of stopping just outside the hospital wing, he led him all the way to his private office in the dungeons, closing the door and waving all sorts of privacy wards on the door.

Draco stood in the middle of the room, nervous. He resisted the urge to fiddle with the hem of a sleeve, as it would only earn him a reprimand. Snape stood in front of his desk, before turning to face him as Uncle Severus. "Do you understand what has happened, Draco, what is going to happen?"

"Y-You-Know-Who is back. My father will return to his side."

"He already has, if Potter is to be believed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"You have put yourself in a rather precarious position, Draco. I tried to save you from it, to nip it in the bud, but you foolishly insisted-" Uncle Severus cut himself off shortly, as his voice had begun to rise. After a deep breath, he continued. "I understand the temptation. There's no use crying over spilled pumpkin juice. We must try to predict the future and plan accordingly. You realize that your father was considered second-in-command during the First War. I believe that the Dark Lord will call upon his services again."

His stomach shivered from the cold, sinking feeling it had gained. "Do you... Do you think he will come to the manor?"

"I believe he will move his headquarters often, but yes, I believe one of his strongholds to be Malfoy Manor."

He nodded, trying his best to appear calm and rational even though he wanted to scream. "Will I be expected to become a Death Eater, too?"

"Yes. Though not right now. The Dark Lord has no use for children in his army. I am afraid, however, that you might be used to punish Lucius for his escaping Azkaban and renouncing the Dark Lord to the public."

He knew his eyes were bulging, and he desperately wanted to cry, but he had been trained long ago to never do such a frivolous thing. Would he be tortured? Would You-Know-Who kill him just to get revenge on his father?

Only when strong hands grasped his arms to hold him in place did he realize that his whole body had been shaking. Uncle Severus looked at him intensely, an uncharacteristic amount of emotion on his face. "I promise that I will do every thing I can to protect you, Draco. I made that vow when I became your godfather, and I will uphold it."

"How can I believe that, when you're one of them?" He had seen the Dark Mark, there was no denying it.

"I have not been one of them for a long time. I am still not, nor will I ever be again. You must understand that I am always on your side, no matter what you may see me do or hear me say."

"So you really are a double agent then?" 

He nodded slowly. "And you have a choice now, Draco. The life I walk is dangerous, and there is no glory or reward at the end of my road. You can give yourself to him, keep your head low and do as you are told. I will protect you. Or you can choose to go into hiding, but your parents don't have that kind of luxury."

Just abandon his family and run away? He may be a coward, but family came before everything else.

Finally, Uncle Severus released him, stepping back. "You don't have to decide now. Malfoy Manor will be too conspicuous a place for the Dark Lord to reside yet."

He nodded numbly.

 

* * *

 

When Draco returned to the Hospital Wing, Harry was asleep again, and Madam Pomfrey shooed him out. He was still a student who still had classes to attend to, although without a professor, there were no more DADA classes. When he finally had some free time in the evening the Hospital Wing was empty. He tried to find Harry, but the boy hadn't shown up in the Great Hall at all, nor had he seen him during his classes. 'He's probably resting up in Gryffindor Tower,' he told himself. 'It's got to be more comfortable than the hospital wing.' The only good thing to come out of this whole fiasco was exams being cancelled. Granger appeared to be the only one upset about that though.

Returning to his Housemates had been awkward. He had been swamped with questions that he couldn't answer, and that left them all feeling a bit miffed. They didn't speak to him, but he knew what was on all their minds. Everyone had seen him race down to Harry's side. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think there was any way to fix this.

By the time of the Leaving Feast, Draco knew for sure that Harry was avoiding him, and it hurt. He stared at him morosely from across the Great Hall as Dumbledore gave his eulogy to Cedric Diggory, and then told the students about You-Know-Who's return. A grim pall fell on the Hall, and even when they were dismissed to leave Hogwarts for a summer with their families, no one smiled. Quickly, Draco raced to catch up to Harry, before he could board one of the carriages that would take him to Hogsmeade Station. 

"Harry!" Still, the boy didn't turn around. He shoved Ernie MacMillian out of his way, and raced harder. "Harry!"

His friends had noticed, and were pointing towards him, but still Harry didn't turn around, and frankly, Draco was sick of being ignored. When he caught up, he forcibly yanked at Harry's shoulder to turn him around. The feel of those eyes tickled his skin, but what right did Harry have to look so angry at him? It wasn't like he had had to run after him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"What crawled up your arse and died? Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Who knows what information you'll take from me and feed to your newly resurrected master?"

The words stung, especially since he was sure that what he had been fearing for the past week was about to come true. "I'm not a Death Eater."

"Not yet. You've always wanted to be just like your father."

Had he forgotten all of those secrets Draco had so foolishly spilled to him in intimate moments? Had he forgotten about how much Draco felt trapped? Harry should have been the one person who knew him best, and now he was acting like they were strangers. "You know I don't."

Harry shook his head. "Things are different now, Dra-Malfoy. He's back, and your father was there. He laughed as Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse on me." Draco flinched. "You said it yourself that your whole life was decided for you, and I know exactly what Lucius Malfoy would want for his son." He shook his head again, turning away from him. "I can't be with a future Death Eater. How could I ever trust you?"

Granger stepped forward. "Harry, that's-"

"No. Can you honestly believe that Draco would betray his family just for some silly crush he had on a boy for not even a year?"

"But he already knows about Sirius," Weasley added. Never would he have thought that they would defend him to Harry. "Dumbledore trusted him enough with this information. Why can't you?"

He was getting really sick of seeing Harry shake his head. "Sirius is in more danger from the Ministry than he is from Voldemort." Draco hissed. He really wished he'd stop saying that name so blatantly. "And we already know they don't believe the stories of fourteen year old boys."

Draco felt like his world was falling apart. He'd already abandoned his reputation to be with Harry in his time of need, and now Harry was abandoning him. Was there no one he could rely on? At what point would Uncle Severus decide Draco was more trouble than he was worth?

"I need to get to the carriages." And then Harry just turned around and left. How could he just walk away so easily? He had thought his feelings had been reciprocated.

Weasley and Granger sent him pitying looks (just more salt in the wound) before trailing off after Harry. He stood there, staring into the backs of mingling students. Something cold and wet hit his forehead and he flinched. His fingers pulled away a small drop of water. How was he supposed to survive the Dark Lord without Harry? If only he were still that ignorant boy at the beginning of the year who still didn't understand why he wanted this boy to look at him.

As the rain began to fall, the other Hogwarts students ran to the carriages, holding up leather bags and cloaks to protect them from the rain. Draco just walked, sitting on the leather seats next to a couple of Ravenclaws he had never met, wishing someone would cast a Warming Charm on him.

 

 

 

END OF BOOK ONE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of Book 1: Storge!  
> As you could sense in these last couple chapters, the ooey-gooey puppylove ends here. Don't worry, Draco and Harry are still madly in love. This is where the diversion from canon really starts.  
> I'm currently working on the second book, and I've got some ideas for the third book. I'm not sure yet exactly how it's going to end, but there will definitely be at least three books.   
> Thank you so much for reading. See you in a bit!


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